£ 


iUCJ.A 


^WE-UNIVERJ//) 


- 


C3 


^ 


•JO^ 


\3 


^fOJITVJ-JO^ 


FO^ 


o 

21 


HH^ 


5? 


^OFCAUFOfy 


Illr 


^ 


IIVER% 


O 

S0# 


3>        =3 


■VER^ 

fP 


o 
■S3 


^W« 


\WHJNI 


I   JV 


CF 


<fJmS0^ 


^ 


THE 


THEATRICAL  JOURiNEY-WORK 


A.ND 


AxiJtiCDOTICAL  RECOLLECTIONS 


OP 


SOL.   SMITH, 

COMEDIAN,    ATTORNEY    AT    LAW,    ETC.,    ETC. 


COMPRISING    A    SKETCH    OF    THE   SECOND    SEVEN    YEAB.8 

OF    HIS     PROFESSIONAL    LIFE;     TOGETHER    WITH 

SKETCHES  OF  ADVENTURE  IN  AFTER  YEARS 


ffi3itf)  a  portrait  of  tfjc  author. 


"The  web  of  our  lift  is  of  a  mingled  yarn— good  and  ill  togpfher. 

AIVs  Well  that  endt  Well. 


\)  I)  i  I  a  ii  c  I  p  I)  i  a : 

T.    B.    PETERSON    &     BROTHERS, 

30  6    CHESTNUT    STREET. 


^e- 


eo< 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854,  by 

T.  B.  PETEESON. 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  in  and  for  ths 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


7 

if  5 


DEDICATION, 


TO  PHINEAS  T.  BARNUM,    P. A.M.,  etc 

Great  Impressario  :  Whilst  you  were  engaged  in 
your  grand  Jenny  Lind  speculation,  the  following 
conundrum  went  the  rounds  of  the  American  news- 
papers : — 

"  Why  is  it  that  Jenny  Lind  and  Barnum  will 
never  fall  out  ?  Answer : — because  he  is  always  for- 
getting  and  she  is  always  for-giving." 

I  have  never  asked  you  the  question  directly,  whe- 
ther you,  Mr.  Barnum,  started  that  conundrum  or 
not ;  but  I  strongly  suspect  that  you  did.  At  all 
events,  I  noticed  that  your  whole  policy  was  concen- 
trated into  one  idea — to  make  an  angel  of  Jenny,  and 
depreciate  yourself  in  contrast. 

You  may  remember  that  in  this  city,  (St.  Louis,) 
I  acted  in  one  instance  as  your  "legal  adviser,"  and, 
as  such,  necessarily  became  acquainted  with  all  the 
particulars  of  your  contract  with  the  so-called  Swe- 
dish Nightingale,  as  well  as  the  various  modifications 
claimed  by  that  charitable  lady,  and  submitted  to  by 
you  after  her  arrival  in  this  country  ;  which  modifi- 

849S<)7  (0 


8  DEDICATION. 


cations  (I  suppose  it  need  no  longer  be  a  secret) 
secured  to  her,  besides  the  original  stipulation  of  one 
thousand  dollars  for  every  concert,  attendants,  car- 
riages, assistant  artists,  and  a  pompous  and  extrava- 
gant retinue,  fit  (only)  for  a  European  princess — 
one-half  of  the  profits  of  each  performance. 
You  may  also  remember  the  legal  advice  I  gave  you 
on  the  occasion  referred  to,  and  the  salutary  effect 
of  your  following  it.  You  must  remember  the  ex- 
travagant joy  you  felt  afterwards,  in  Philadelphia, 
when  the  "Angel"  made  up  her  mind  to  avail  her- 
self of  one  of  the  stipulations  in  her  contract,  to 
break  off  at  the  end  of  a  hundred  nights,  and  even 
bought  out  seven  of  that  hundred — supposing  that 
she  could  go  on  without  your  aid  as  well  as  with  it. 
And  you  cannot  but  remember  how  like  a  rocket- 
stick  she  dropped  when  your  business  connection  with 
her  ended,  and  how  she  "fizzed  out"  the  remainder 
of  her  concert  nights  in  this  part  of  the  world,  and 
soon  afterwards  retired  to  her  domestic  blissitude  in 
Sweden. 

You  know,  Mr.  Barnum,  if  you  would  only  tell, 
which  of  the  two  it  was  that  was  "  forGETTiNG,"  and 
which  "forGlviNG ;"  and  you  also  know  who  actually 
gave  the  larger  portion  of  those  sums  which  you 
heralded  to  the  world  as  the  sole  gifts  of  the  "  divine 
Jenny." 

Of  all  your  speculations — from  the  Negro  Centena- 


DEDICATION. 


rienne,  who  didn't  nurse  Gen.  Washington,  down  to 
the  Bearded  Woman  of  Genoa — there  was  not  one 
which  required  the  exercise  of  so  much  humbuggery 
as  the  Jenny  Lind  concerts ;  and  I.  verily  believe 
there  is  no  man  living,  other  than  yourself,  who 
could  or  would  have  risked  the  enormous  expenditure 
of  money  necessary  to  carry  them  through  success- 
fully. Traveling,  with  sixty  artists,  four  thousand 
miles,  and  giving  ninety-three  concerts,  at  an  actual 

COSt    Of  FORTY-FIVE    HUNDRED    DOLLARS   each,  is  what 

no  other  man  would  have  undertaken — you  accom- 
plished this,  and  pocketed  by  the  operation  but  little 
less  than  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  ! — Mr. 
Barnum,  you  are 

YOURSELF — ALONE  ! 

I  honor  you,  oh  !  great  Impressario,  as  the  most 
successful  manager  in  America,  or  any  other  country. 
Democrat  as  you  are,  you  can  give  a  practical  lesson 
to  the  aristocrats  of  Europe,  Jioiv  to  live.  At  your 
beautiful  and  tasteful  residence,  "  Iranistan,"  (I 
don't  like  the  name  though,)  you  can  and  do  enter- 
tain your  friends  with  a  warmth  of  hospitality  only 
equaled  by  that  of  the  great  landed  proprietors  of  the 
old  country,  or  of  our  own  "  sunny  south."  Whilst 
riches  are  pouring  into  your  coffers  from  your  various 
"  ventures"  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  you  do  not 
hoard  your    immense    means,  but   continually  "  cast 


10  DEDICATION. 


them  forth  upon  the  waters,"  rewarding  labor,  en- 
couraging the  arts,  and  lending  a  helping  hand  to 
industry  in  all  its  branches.  Not  content  with  doing 
all  this,  you  deal  telling  blows,  whenever  opportunity 
offers,  upon  the  monster  Intemperance.  Your  labors 
in  this  great  cause  alone  should  entitle  you  to  the 
thanks  of  all  good  men,  women  and  children  in  the 
land.  Mr.  Barnum,  you  deserve  all  your  good  for- 
tune, and  I  hope  you  may  long  live  to  enjoy  your 
wealth  and  honor. 

As  a  small  instalment  towards  the  debt  I,  as  one 
of  the  community,  owe  you,  and  with  the  hope  of 
affording  you  an  hour's  amusement,  (if  you  can  spare 
that  amount  of  time  from  your  numerous  avocations 
to  read  it,)  I  present  you  with  this  little  volume,  con- 
taining a  very  brief  account  of  some  of  my  "journey 
work"  in  the  south  and  west ;  and  remain,  very 
respectfully, 

Your  friend, 

And  affectionate  Uncle, 
Sol.   Smith. 

Chouteau  Avenue,  St.  Louis, 
November  1st,  1854. 


CONTENTS. 


»s« 


FAOB 

CHAPTER  I. 
Early  days  of  the  Drama  in  New  Orleans 15 

CHAPTER  II. 
Slow  Traveling  by  Steam 19 

CHAPTER  III. 
St.  Louis— Port  Gibson — Natchez 26 

CHAPTER   IV. 
Theatricals  in  Mississippi  and  West  Tennessee 32 

CHAPTER   V. 
Tuscaloosa — Fire  in  a  Theatre 38 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Theatrical  Pioneering  on  the  Alabama  River 44 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Tough  Journey-work — fifty  miles  a  day 48 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Return  to  the  Crescent  City 52 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Journey-work  resumed 57 

(11) 


12  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  X. 
Second  season  in  West  Tennessee 59 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Managerial  Coup  d'etat 65 

CHAPTER  XII. 
My  first  season  in  Mobile 73 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Georgia — An  Indian  War  Dance 78 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Getting  through  a  summer 82 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Speculation  in  Whiskers 87 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  season  in  Milledgeville 93 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Manager  Brown 98 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Cholera  in  1833 105 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Floating  Theatre 112 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Commencement  of  a  long  journey 115 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Almost  a  Duel 122 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Quarrel  of  Brutus  and  Cassius 130 


CONTENTS.  •      13 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Misses  and  Madams  of  the  Stage 136 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Fire  in  the  Capitol 141 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Byrom,  the  Gambler 144 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Old  Sol.'s  Message 148 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
Stopping  places  in  Georgia  and  Alabama 150 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
George  Holland,  the  Comedian 158 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
My  last  Traveling  Campaign 161 

CHAPTER   XXX. 
Another  Message,  and  the  last 170 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
Winding  up  of  my  Country  Management 174 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
Going  North 180 


ANECDOTICAL   RECOLLECTIONS. 


Giving  Entertainments 187 

Breaking  a  Bank 192 

A  Hog  Story 198 

Don  Ludlow  Hemit  in  Havana 202 


14  CONTENTS. 


PAGl 

Who's  at  the  Wheel  ? 209 

A  Lapse  of  Twenty  Years 213 

An  Intimate  Friend 216 

The  Father  of  the  American  Stage 221 

Court  of  Uncommon  Pleas 229 

Kicking  the  Bucket 233 


DEFENCE   OF   THE   STAGE. 

A  friendly  letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Beecher 237 

Reply  to  the  Rev.  W.  G.  Elliott 245 

Letter  from  Mirabeau  Lamar,  Ex- President  of  Texas 253 


THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


CHAPTER   I. 

EARLY  DAYS  OF  THE  DRAMA  IN  NEW  ORLEANS. 

First  American  Company  in  New  Orleans— St.  Phillippe  Street  and 
Orleans  Theatres  in  1817-18— Cooper,  the  Tragedian— Ameri- 
can (Camp  Street)  Theatre— Company  of  1827-8— Two-thirds 
of  them  gone  ! — Booth  in  his  best  days — A  losing  season. 

The  English  Drama  was  introduced  into  the  city 
of  New  Orleans  in  December,  1817,  by  a  common- 
wealth company,  consisting  of  N.  M.  Ludlow,  (Man- 
ager,) Morgan,  Lucas,  Bainbridge,  John  Vaughan, 
Henry  Vaughan,  Mrs.  Vaughan,  Mrs.  Ludlow,  Mrs. 
Morgan,  and  others,  whose  names  are  not  recollected. 

The  performances  took  place  in  the  St.  Phillippe 
Street  Theatre— now  the  Washington  Ball  Room. 
In  1818  Mr.  Aaron  Phillips  took  a  company  to  New 
Orleans,  and  performed  in  the  French  Theatre, 
Orleans  Street.  Mr.  James  EL  Caldwell  came  the 
same  year,  with  a  company  from  Virginia,  and  occu- 
pied the  St.  Phillippe  Street  Theatre,  afterwards  re- 
moving to  the  Theatre  D'Orleans,  which  he  occupied 
three  evenings  of  each  week,  alternating  with  the 
French  company — a  compromise  having  been  effected 

(15) 


16  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

■with  Mr.  Phillips,  who,  with  the  principal  members 
of  his  company,  enlisted  under  Mr.  Caldwell's  banner. 
The  then  great  tragedian,  Cooper,  performed  an  en- 
gagement this  season,  receiving,  as  I  have  been  in- 
formed, $333  per  night ! 

The  foundation  of  the  American  Theatre,  Camp 
Street,  (now  the  Armory  Hall,)  was  laid  in  1821,  and 
it  was  opened  in  an  unfinished  condition.  In  1824, 
the  American  Theatre  was  regularly  opened,  and 
with  a  company  competent  to  give  proper  effect  to 
the  regular  drama.  The  season  was  a  profitable  one 
to  the  manager,  and  satisfactory  to  the  public. 

In  1825-6,  the  theatre  again  enjoyed  a  prosper- 
ous season.  My  youngest  brother,  Lemuel,  was  a 
member  of  the  company.  Mr.  Edwin  Forrest  was 
engaged,  (then  but  18  years  of  age,)  and  opened  in 
Jaffier,  (Venice  Preserved.) 

The  season  of  1826-27,  I  know  nothing  about ;  but 
have  no  doubt  it  was  as  successful  as  the  preceding. 

In  the  summer  of  1827,  Mr.  Caldwell  proceeded 
with  his  company  to  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  where  he  con- 
verted a  salt  house  on  Second  Street  into  a  theatre, 
and  performed  with  considerable  success  for  about 
three  months — proceeding  from  thence  to  Nashville, 
Tenn.,  where  I  joined  him,  as  heretofore  related. 

I  now  proceed  with  my  personal  narrative,  begin- 
ning with  the  opening  of  the  American  Theatre, 
Camp  Street,  in  the  fall  of  1827.  I  am  enabled  to 
give  a  list  of  the  New  Orleans  company  of  this  sea- 
son.    The  names  of  those  now  living,  are  italicised: 

Messrs.  J.  H.  Caldwell,  Anderson,  Jackson,  Sol. 
Smith,  Lem  Smith,  Sam  Jones,  R.  Russell,  Gray, 
Lear,  Hartwig,  Lowery,  Biggins,  Cambridge,  Palmer, 


EARLY  DATS  OF  THE  DRAMA  IN  NEW  ORLEANS.  17 

Crampton,  McCaffcrty ;  Mesdames  Hartwig,  Russell, 
Rowe,  Bloxton,  Johns,  S.  Smith,  L.  Smith,  Jackson, 
Higgins,  Crampton,  and  Miss  Russell,  (now  Mrs. 
Farren.) 

Thus  it  appears  that  of  twenty-seven  members, 
nine  only  remain — just  double  that  number  having 
taken  their  departure  to 

"  The  undiscovered  country,  from  whose  bourn 
No  traveller  returns." 

On  the  second  night  of  the  season,  Mrs.  Smith  and 
myself  made  our  first  appearance  in  New  Orleans — 
she  as  Diana  Vernon  in  "Rob  Roy,"  and  I  as  the 
sentimental  Billy  Lackaday,  in  the  comedy  of 
"  Sweethearts  and  Wives."  With  the  exception  of 
the  character  of  Delph,  in  the  farce  of  "  Family 
Jars,"  which  I  performed  a  great  number  of  nights 
during  the  season,  and  the  part  of  Carlitz,  in  a  new 
one-act  drama  entitled  "  Love  in  Humble  Life," 
I  had  very  little  to  do  calculated  to  give  me  a  position 
as  an  actor ;  yet  I  was  kept  busy  enough,  always 
being  required  to  walk  in  processions,  sing  in  cho- 
ruses, and  shout  in  armies — besides  fighting  in  all 
general  battles. 

During  this  winter,  (1827-8,)  Mr.  Booth  came  to 

perform  an   engagement,  and  was   highly  successful. 

I  should  say  these  were  his   best   days.     It  was   my 

luck  to  "  support"  him  as  the  Physician  in  "  King 

Lear,"  the  Lord  Mayor,  in  "Richard  the  Third,"  and 

one  of  the  shouting  citizens  in   each   of  the   Roman 

pieces.      After    his    engagement   at  our  theatre   was 

finished,  he  performed  Orestes  twice  in  the  Theatre 

9 


18  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

D'Orleans  to  crowded  houses,  and  the  great  delight 
of  the  French  population.* 

Manager  Caldwell  was  a  loser  this  season,  I  should 
think  to  the  tune  of  at  least  $10,000. 

*  Mr.  Booth  fulfilled  his  last  engagement  on  earth  in  the  St. 
Charles  Theatre,  under  the  management  of  Ludlow  and  Smith, 
in  November,  1852,  making  his  final  appearance  in  the  character 
of  Sir  Edward  Mortimer.  He  departed  this  life  immediately  after  his 
engagement,  during  his  voyage  from  New  Orleans  to  Louisville. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SLOW  TRAVELLING  BY   STEAM. 

Journey  to  Natchez — A  Bully  Boat  and  a  Brag  Captain — Taking 
in  wood — Slow  progress,  but  a  good  night's  work  for  the 
officers — Taking  the  whole  pile. 

The  season  being  over,  the  company  received 
orders  to  proceed  at  once  to  Natchez,  then  full  300 
miles  distant — nozv,  by  reason  of  a  "cut  off,"  short- 
ened to  275  miles — from  New  Orleans.  We  took 
passage  on  the  splendid  steamer,  "  Caravan." 

Does  any  one  remember  the  Caravan  ?  She  was 
what  would  now  be  considered  a  slow  boat ;  then  she 
was  regularly  advertised  as  the  "  fast  running,"  etc. 
Her  regular  trips  from  New  Orleans  to  Natchez  were 
usually  made  in  from  six  to  eight  days  ;  a  trip  made 
by  her  in  five  days  was  considered  remarkable.  A 
voyage  from  New  Orleans  to  Vicksburg  and  back, 
including  stoppages,  generally  entitled  the  officers  and 
crew  to  a  month's  wages.  Whether  the  Caravan 
ever  achieved  the  feat  of  a  voyage  to  the  Falls, 
(Louisville,)  I  have  never  learned  ;  if  she  did,  she 
must  have  "had  a  time  of  it !" 

It  was  my  fate  to  take  passage  in  this  boat.  The 
captain  was  a  good-natured,  easy-going  man,  care- 
ful of  the  comfort  of  his  passengers,  and  exceedingly 
fond  of  the  game  of  brag. 

We  had  been  out  a  little  more  than  five  days,  and 
were  in  hopes  of  seeing  the  bluffs  of  Natchez  on  the 
next  day.     Our  wood   was    getting    low,    and   night 

(19) 


20  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

coming  on.  The  pilot  on  duty  above,  (the  other  pilot 
held  three  aces  at  the  time,  and  was  just  calling  out 
the  captain,  who  "went  it  strong"  on  three  kings,) 
sent  down  word  that  the  mate  had  reported  the  stock 
of  wood  reduced  to  half  a  cord.  The  worthy  captain 
excused  himself  to  the  pilot  whose  watch  was  below, 
and  the  two  passengers  who  made  up  the  party,  and 
hurried  to  the  deck,  where  he  soon  discovered,  hy 
the  landmarks,  that  we  were  about  half  a  mile  from 
a  wood-yard,  which  he  said  was  situated  "  right 
round  yonder  point."  "  But,"  muttered  the  cap- 
tain, "  I  don't  much  like  to  take  wood  of  the  yellow- 
faced  old  scoundrel  who  owns  it — he  always  charges 
a  quarter  of  a  dollar  more  than  any  one  else  ;  how- 
ever, there's  no  other  chance."  The  boat  was  pushed 
to  her  utmost,  and,  in  a  little  less  than  an  hour,  when 
our  fuel  was  about  giving  out,  we  made  the  point, 
and  our  cables  were  out  and  fastened  to  trees  along- 
side of  a  good-sized  wood  pile. 

"  Hollo,  Colonel  !  how  d'ye  sell  your  wood  this 
time  ?" 

A  yellow-faced  old  gentleman,  with  a  two  week's 
beard,  strings  over  his  shoulders  holding  up  to  his 
arm-pits  a  pair  of  copperas-colored  linsey-woolsey 
pants,  the  legs  of  which  reached  a  very  little  below  the 
knee ;  shoes  without  stockings ;  a  faded,  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  which  had  once  been  black,  and  a  pipe 
in  his  mouth — casting  a  glance  at  the  empty  guards 
of  our  boat,  and  uttering  a  grunt  as  he  rose  from 
fastening  our  "spring-line,"  answered: 

"  Why,  capting,  we  must  charge  you  three  and  a 
quarter  this  time." 

"  The    d — 1  !"  replied   the  captain — (captains   did 


SLOW  TRAVELING  BY  STEAM.  21 

swear  a  little  in  those  days.)  "  What's  the  odd 
quarter  for,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  You  only 
charged  me  three  as  I  went  down." 

"  Why,  capting,"  drawled  out  the  wood  merchant, 
with  a  sort  of  leer  on  his  yellow  countenance,  which 
clearly  indicated  that  his  wood  was  as  good  as  sold, 
"  Wood's  riz  since  }7ou  went  down  two  weeks  ago ; 
besides,  you  are  awar  that  you  very  seldom  stop  going 
down ;  when  you're  going  up,  you're  sometimes 
obleeged  to  give  me  a  call,  becaze  the  current'3 
against  you,  and  there's  no  other  wood  yard  for  nine 
miles  ahead  ;  and  if  you  happen  to  be  nearly  out  of 
fooel,  why" — 

"Well,  well,"  interrupted  the  captain,  "we'll 
take  a  few  cords  under  the  circumstances" — and  he 
returned  to  his  game  of  brag. 

In  about  half  an  hour  we  felt  the  Caravan  com- 
mence paddling  again.  Supper  was  over,  and  I  re- 
tired to  my  upper  berth,  situated  alongside  and  over- 
looking the  brag  table,  where  the  captain  was  deeply 
engaged,  having  now  the  other  pilot  as  his  principal 
opponent.  We  jogged  on  quietly — and  seemed  to  be 
going  at  a  good  rate. 

"  How  does  that  wood  burn?"  inquired  the  captain 
of  the  mate,  who  was  looking  on  at  the  game. 

"  Tisn't  of  much  account,  I  reckon,"  answered  the 
mate — "it's  cotton  wood,  and  most  of  it  green  at 
that." 

"Well,  Thompson — (three  aces,  again,  stranger — 
I'll  take  that  X,  and  the  small  change,  if  you  please — 
it's  your  deal) — Thompson,  I  say,  we'd  better  take 
three  or  four  cords  at  the  next  wood-vard — it  can't 


2* 


22  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

be  more   than  six  miles  from  here — (two  aces  and  a 
bragger,  with  the  age  !  hand  over  those  Vs.") 

The  game  went  on  and  the  paddles  kept  moving. 
At  11  o'clock,  it  was  reported  to  the  captain  that  we 
were  nearing  the  wood  yard,  the  light  being  distinctly 
seen  by  the  pilot  on  duty. 

"  Head  her  in  shore,  then,  and  take  in  six  cords, 
if  it's  good — see  to  it,  Thompson,  I  can't  very  well 
leave  the  game  now — it's  getting  right  warm.  This 
pilot's  beating  us  all  to  smash." 

The  wooding  completed,  we  paddled  on  again.  The 
captain  seemed  somewhat  vexed,  when  the  mate  in- 
formed him  that  the  price  was  the  same  as  at  the  last 
wood-yard — three  and  a  quarter  ;  but  soon  again  be- 
came interested  in  the  game. 

From  my  upper  berth  (there  were  no  state-rooms 
then)  I  could  observe  the  movements  of  the  players. 
All  the  contention  appeared  to  be  between  the  cap- 
tain and  the  pilots,  (the  latter  personages  took  it 
turn  and  turn  about,  steering  and  playing  brag,) 
one  of  them  almost  invariably  winning,  while  the  two 
passengers  merely  went  through  the  ceremony  of 
dealing,  cutting,  and  paying  up  their  "  anfias.!'  They 
were  anxious  to  learn  the  game — and  they  did  learn 
it !  Once  in  a  while,  indeed,  seeing  they  had  two 
aces  and  a  bragger,  they  would  venture  a  bet  of  five 
or  ten  dollars,  but  they  were  always  compelled  to 
back  out  before  the  tremendous  bragging  of  the  cap- 
tain or  pilot — or  if  they  did  venture  to  "  call  out"  on 
"two  bullits  and  a  bragger,"  they  had  the  mortifica- 
tion to  find  one  of  the  officers  had  the  same  kind  of  a 
hand,  and  were  more  venerable  !     Still,  with  all  these 


SLOW  TRAVELING  BY  STEAM.  23 

disadvantages,  they  continued  playing — they  wanted 
to  learn  the  game. 

At  2  o'clock,  the  captain  asked  the  mate  how  we 
were  getting  on  ? 

"Oh,  pretty  glibly,  sir,"  replied  the  mate.  "We 
can  scarcely  tell  what  headway  we  are  making,  for  we 
are  obliged  to  keep  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  there 
is  the  shadow  of  a  fog  rising.  This  wood  seems  rather 
better  than  that  we  took  in  at  old  yellow  face's,  but 
we're  nearly  out  again,  and  must  be  looking  out  for 
more.  1  saw  a  light  just  a  head  on  the  right — shall 
we  hail?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  captain,  "ring  the  bell 
and  ask  'em  what's  the  price  of  wood  up  here  ? — I've 
got  you  again  ;  here's  double  kings." 

I  heard  the  bell  and  the  pilot's  hail :  "  What's  your 
price  for  wood  ?" 

A  youthful  voice  on  the  shore  answered :  "  Three 
and  a  quarter  !" 

"D — n  it!"  ejaculated  the  captain,  who  had  just 
lost  the  price  of  two  cords  to  the  pilot — the  strangers 
suffering  some  at  the  same  time — "  Three  and  a 
quarter  again  !  Are  we  never  to  get  to  a  cheaper 
country? — deal,  sir,  if  you  please — better  luck  next 
time."  The  other  pilot's  voice  was  again  heard  on 
deck — 

"  How  much  have  you  ? 

"Only  about  ten  cords,  sir,"  was  the  reply  of  the 
youthful  salesman. 

The  captain  here  told  Thompson  to  take  six  cords, 
which  would  last  till  daylight — and  again  turned  his 
attention  to  the  game. 


24  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

The  pilots  here  changed  places.  When  did  they 
sleep  f 

Wood  taken  in,  the  Caravan  again  took  her  place 
in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  paddling  on  as  usual. 

Day  at  length  dawned.  The  brag  party  broke  up, 
and  settlements  were  being  made,  during  which  ope- 
ration the  captain's  bragging  propensities  were  ex- 
ercised in  cracking  up  the  speed  of  his  boat,  which, 
by  his  reckoning,  must  have  made  at  least  sixty  miles, 
and  would  have  made  many  more,  if  he  could  have 
procured  good  wood.  It  appeared  the  two  pas- 
sengers, in  their  first  lesson,  had  incidentally  lost  one 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars.  The  captain,  as  he 
rose  to  see  about  taking  in  some  good  wood,  which  he 
felt  sure  of  obtaining,  now  he  had  got  above  the 
level  country,  winked  at  his  opponent,  the  pilot,  with 
whom  he  had  been  on  very  bad  terms  during  the  pro- 
gress of  the  game,  and  said,  in  an  under  tone, — 
"  Forty  a-piece  for  you  and  I  and  Jemes,  (the  other 
pilot,)  is  not  not  bad  for  one  night." 

I  had  risen,  and  went  out  with  the  captain,  to  en- 
joy a  view  of  the  bluifs.  There  was  just  fog  enough 
to  prevent  the  vision  taking  in  more  than  sixty  yards 
— so  I  was  disappointed  in  my  expectation.  We  were 
nearing  the  shore  for  the  purpose  of  looking  for  wood, 
the  banks  being  invisible  from  the  middle  of  the 
river. 

"There  it  is  !"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "  stop  her  !" 
— Ding — ding-  ding !  went  the  big  bell,  and  the 
captain  hailed  : 

"Hollo!  the  wood-yard!" 

"Hollo   yourself!"  answered  a  squeaking  female 


SLOW  TRAVELING  BY  STEAM.  25 

voice,  which  came  from  a  woman  with  a  petticoat  over 
her  shoulders  in  place  of  a  shawl. 

"  What's  the  price  of  wood?" 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  know  the  price  by  this 
time,"  answered  the  old  lady  in  the  petticoat — "it's 
three  and  a  qua-a-rter !  and  now  you  know  it." 

"Three  and  the  d — 1 !"  broke  in  the  captain — 
"what,  have  you  raised  on  your  wood,  too?  I'll  give 
you  three,  and  not  a  cent  more." 

"Well,"  replied  the  petticoat,  "here  comes  the 
old  man — hell  talk  to  you!"  And  sure  enough,  out 
crept  from  the  cottage  the  veritable  faded  hat,  cop- 
peras-colored pants,  yellow  countenance  and  two 
weeks'  beard  we  had  seen  the  night  before,  and  the 
same  voice  we  had  heard  regulating  the  price  of  cot- 
ton wood,  squeaked  out  the  following  sentence,  ac- 
companied by  the  same  leer  of  the  same  yellow 
countenance : 

"  Why,  darn  it  all,  capting,  there  is  but  three  or 
four  cords  left,  and  since  it's  you,  I  don't  care  if  I 
do  let  you  have  it  for  three — as  you're  a  good 
customer  /" 

After  a  quick  glance  at  the  landmarks  around,  the 
captain  bolted,  and  turned  in  to  take  some  rest. 

The  fact  became  apparent — the  reader  will  proba- 
bly have  discovered  it  some  time  since — that  we  had 

BEEN  WOODING  ALL  NIGHT  AT    THE  SAME  WOOD-YARD  ! 


CHAPTER   III. 


ST.  LOUIS,    PORT   GIBSON,    NATCHEZ. 

Natchez — Sleeping  in  a  Vault — Watch  stolen  from  a  High  Priest — 
Oakah  Tubbee,  the  Choctaw  Chief— The  Old  "  American,"  Cap- 
tain Scott  and  Clerk  Swon — St.  Louis — The  "  Hypocrite" — 
Old  Citizens— The  "Gambler's  Fate"— To  the  South  again- 
Port  Gibson — A  good  number  of  Smiths — A  six-horse  team  with 
bells — Natchez  season  a  failure. 


The  Natchez  Theatre  was  opened  under  Mr. 
Caldwell's  management  in  the  spring  of  1828,  with 
scenery  and  company  brought  from  the  "American," 
in  New  Orleans.  Here  it  was  the  cognomen  of 
"  Old  Sol"  began  to  attach  itself  to  me,  in  conse- 
quence of  my  being  frequently  called  upon  to  perform 
the  characters  usually  personated  by  "  Old  Gray," 
who  was  generally  indisposed  about  these  days.  I 
was  then  27  years  of  age. 

I  have  said  elsewhere  that  our  theatre  was  located 
in  a  grave-yard.  A  young  man,  named  McCafferty, 
was  a  member  of  the  company,  combining  the  duties 
of  scenic  artist  and  second  low  comedian.  Being 
very  drunk  one  night,  he  wandered  forth  among  the 
tombs,  and  after  diligent  search  for  him  next  morn- 
ing, he  was  found  quietly  reposing  in  a  ruined  vault, 
where  he  had  passed  the  night !  Poor  McCafferty  ! 
A  few  years  afterwards  a  Mr.  Gamble  and  himself 
took  a  bottle  of  ivhiskey  to  bed  with  them  one  night, 
and  were  found  dead  the  next  morning ! 

A  watch  was  stolen  from  my  dressing-room  in  the 
(26) 


ST.  LOUIS,  PORT  GIBSON,  NATCHEZ.  27 


theatre,  and  a  negro  boy  was  taken  before  Justice 
Tooly,  on  a  charge  of  having  committed  the  larceny. 
Being  sworn,  I  began  to  give  in  my  testimony,  to  tho 
effect  that  on  the  previous  night,  while  I  was  officiat- 
ing as  High  Priest  of  the  Sun — 

"  How's  this  ?  How's  this  ?"  interrupted  the  magis- 
trate— "  High  Priest  of  the  Sun  ?  Pray  where  did 
all  this  happen  ? 

"  At  the  theatre,  sir  ;  I  was  officiating  as  High 
Priest,  and" 

"At  the  theatre?"  screamed  the  justice — "served 
you  right,  then — served  you  right !  Boy,  you  may 
go — I  dismiss  the  case." 

The  individual  charged  with  this  theft  was  no  less 
a  personage  than  a  negro  boy  named  Carey,  who 
afterwards  became  somewhat  notorious  as  an  Indian 
chief,  under  the  name  of  Oakah  Tubbee.  Nearly 
twenty  years  aftewards,  this  individual  came  to  St. 
Louis,  where  he  achieved  considerable  popularity  as  a 
serenading  flute  player.  Mr.  Baily,  our  treasurer, 
on  the  occasion  of  his  benefit,  wished  Carey  to  play 
a  tune  between  the  play  and  afterpiece  ;  but  it  did 
not  seem  exactly  proper  for  a  negro  to  appear  on  the 
stage.  Being  a  bright  mulatto,  it  was  thought  he 
might  be  passed  oft"  "for  one  night  only"  as  cut 
Indian.  When  the  bill  was  being  made  out,  Baily 
came  up  into  the  director's  room  to  ask  me  what 
name  we  should  give  our  newly  created  Indian. 
"Name?  Ah,  yes — he  must  have  a  name,"  I  re- 
plied ;  and  casting  a  look  through  the  window  over 
to  the  "  Cross  Keys,"  a  large  oak  tub  under  a  spout 
caught  my  eye.  "  There  is  an  oak  tub  ;  let  the 
Indian's    name    be    Oakah    Tubbee  !" — and    Oakah 


28  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

Tubbee  it  has  been  ever  since.  He  soon  went  up 
into  the  Indian  country,  where  passing  himself  off  as 
a  Choctaw  Chief,  he  married  a  very  likely  squaw, 
and  commenced  traveling  and  giving  concerts  !  I 
am  sorry  to  hear  lately  that  Tubbee  has  deserted  his 
Indian  wife,  and  taken  a  white  squaw,  who  fell  in  love 
with  him  at  Niagara  Falls.  I  suspect  Tubbee  is  con- 
siderable of  a  rascal,  though  he  was  probably  inno- 
cent of  the  larceny  charged  on  him  in  Natchez. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Russell,  at  the  close  of  the  season 
here,  proceeded  to  Boston,  where  Mr.  Russell  had 
received  the  appointment  of  acting  manager  of  the 
Tremont  Theatre. 

The  season,  though  short,  was  moderately  profit- 
able to  the  management,  and  nearly  all  the  per- 
formers had  good  benefits. 

Our  next  movement  was  to  St.  Louis,  Missouri, 
then  a  village,  containing  less  than  6,000  inhabi- 
tants.* Here  I  made  my  first  appearance  in  the 
character  of  Kit  Cosey,  ("Town  and  Country,")  and 
was  warmly  received  by  the  audience.  Our  theatre 
was  an  old  Salt  House  in  Second  street,  mentioned  as 
having  been  fitted  up  for  dramatic  purposes,  by  Mr. 
Caldwell,  the  year  before,  and  was  generally  well 
attended.  Our  manager  had  gone  "East,"  to  recruit 
the  southern  company,  and  play  a  starring  engage- 
ment at  the  Park  Theatre.  The  management  was 
placed  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  James  S.  Rowe,  the 
treasurer  of  the  establishment,  and  the  season  was  a 


*  We  went  up  in  the  "  America,"  Captain  Aleck  Scott, — Mr. 
J.  C.  Swon,  now  one  of  our  most  successful  and  popular  steam- 
boat captains,  acting  as  clerk. 


ST.  LOUIS,  PORT  GIBSON,  NATCHEZ.  29 

paying  one.  The  comedy  of  the  "  Hypocrite"  "was 
acted  a  great  number  of  nights — Mr.  Barry  perform- 
ing the  character  of  Dr.  Cantivell,  and  the  writer  of 
this  that  of  Mr.  Maw  worm. 

I  remember,  with  grateful  feelings,  that  the  late 
Governor  Clarke,  and  most  of  his  family,  made  it  a 
point,  for  many  years,  to  attend  my  benefits,  which 
were  always  profitable  and  flattering  to  my  profes- 
sional pride.  Being  now  a  permanent  citizen  of  St. 
Louis,  where  I  have  resided,  with  little  intermission, 
for  twenty  years,  I  look  back  with  pleasure  to  the 
days  I  am  now  writing  about,  when  I  formed  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Clarks,  the  Rulands,  the  O'Fal- 
lons,  the  Kennetts,  the  Chouteaus,  the  Prattes,  the 
Pauls,  the  Grimsley,  the  Keemle,  the  Wilgus,  the 
Millburn,  and  many — many  others,  whose  friendship 
I  value,  and  always  shall.  The  drama  of  the 
"Gambler's  Fate"  was  produced  this  season,  with 
great  success,  and  I  think  with  considerable  moral 
effect. 

Those  were  jolly  times  in  St.  Louis  ! 

We  next  proceeded  to  Natchez,  with  the  intention 
of  making  a  fall  season,  previously  to  opening  the 
Camp  Street  Theatre  in  New  Orleans.  On  our  way 
down  the  river,  my  brother  and  myself,  with  our 
wives,  together  with  a  Mr.  Cambridge  and  a  Mr. 
Wilkie,*  were   induced    to   stop   and   perform   a   few 

•  Tliis  Mr.  Wilkie  came  to  St.  Louis,  this  season,  (1828.)  from 
Fort  Leavenworth.  It  appears  he  had  belonged  to  Mr.  Caldwell's 
company,  in  Virginia,  seven  years  previous  to  this  date,  and  seven 
years  before  that,  (about  1814.)  had  played  with  a  strolling  com- 
pany in  North  Carolina.  At  the  remotest  period  named  just  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  war — he  got  very  drunk  one  night   alter  the 

3 


30  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

nights  at  Port  Gibson,  in  the  State  of  Mississippi, 
and  a  most  pleasant  and  lively  time  we  had  of  it — 
the  theatre  being  crowded  every  night  we  remained 
in  that  spirited  little  village.  We  opened  with  the 
"  Honey  Moon" — and  not  having  a  large  stock  of 
performers,  we  were  obliged  to  adopt  the  doubling 
system.  It  thus  fell  to  my  lot  to  enact  the  Mock 
Duke,  Rolando,  Doctor  Lampedo,  and  Neighbor 
Lopez  !  It  being  our  first  appearance  in  the  town, 
and  we  all  strangers  to  the  playgoing  community,  it 
was  never  suspected  that  each  character  announced  in 
the  bill  had  not  a  separate  representative.  My  share 
of  the  characters  in  the  comedy- was  announced  thus  : 

Rolando,  (a  woman  hater)  -  Mr.  Smith. 

Jacques,  (the  Mock  Duke)  -  "  Sol  Smith. 

Dr.  Lampedo,  -  -  "  S.  Smith. 

Lopez,  -  -  -  "  S.  F.  Smith. 

It  was  remarked,  next  day,  that  "  there  appeared 
to  be  a  pretty  smart  chance  of  Smiths  in  the  com- 
pany ;"  which  indeed  was  a  fact — there  did  appear  to 

performance,  and  when  he  caine  to  his  senses,  found  himself 
marching  with  a  jolly  company  of  soldiers  towards  Green  Bay, 
having  enlisted  for  seven  years  !  Having  faithfully  served  out  his 
time,  he  returned  to  the  South,  where  he  became  a  member  of 
Mr.  Caldwell's  company,  as  above  stated.  He  again  got  drunk, 
and  again  enlisted  for  seven  years  !  and  this  time  he  found  himself 
marching  towards  Fort  Leavenworth.  It  was  at  the  termination  of 
this  scond  term  of  seven  years  that  he  came  to  St.  Louis,  and  re- 
sumed his  situation.  At  the  end  of  our  brief  season  in  Port  Gibson, 
"Wilkie  was  again  missing,  and  I  have  had  no  certain  information 
respecting  him  since  :  I  feel  satisfied,  however,  that  he  enlisted 
into  some  service,  possibly  that  of  Texas ;  and  when  he  had 
served  out  his  stipulated  term,  may  have  joined  the  Santa-fe  ex- 
pedition—then  taken  a  hand  in  the  Mexican  war — I  don't  know. 


ST.  LOUIS,  PORT  GIBSON,  NATCHEZ.  31 

be  a  good  many,  every  character  but  two  in  the 
comedy  having  a  Smith  opposite  to  it ! 

When  we  had  concluded  our  season  of  four  nights 
in  Port  Gibson,  it  was  found  impossible  to  procure 
carriages  to  convey  us  to  Natchez — so  we  had  re- 
course to  a  large  road  wagon,  drawn  by  six  horses, 
which  carried  the  company  and  baggage.  Not  being 
desirous  to  make  much  of  a  parade  in  leaving  the 
town,  (in  such  a  conveyance,)  Pitts,  the  proprietor 
of  the  wagon,  was  requested  to  be  ready  a  little  be- 
fore daylight,  that  we  might  quietly  take  our  de- 
parture. Pitts  was  punctual,  but  he  came  dashing 
down  the  street  with  his  six  horses  rigged  out  in  loud 
sounding  sleigh  bells  !  On  being  remonstrated  with, 
he  innocently  answered  that  he  didn't  intend  to 
charge  us  for  the  extras.  After  much  persuasion,  he 
took  off  the  bells ;  but  doing  this  delayed  our  depar- 
ture until  after  sunrise,  and  we  were  attended  to  the 
end  of  the  town  by  quite  a  respectable  number  of 
the  rising  generation,  all  anxious  to  get  a  last  peep 
at  the  "show  folk."  At  Washington,  six  miles 
from  Natchez,  we  took  the  precaution  to  make  a  halt, 
and  send  honest  Pitts  ahead  with  our  baggage,  while 
we  awaited  the  arrival  of  a  couple  of  carriages  which 
he  was  commissioned  to  send  out  to  us. 

At  Natchez  we  found  several  new  members  of  the 
company  awaiting  the  Opening  of  the  theatre.  Among 
the  rest,  George  Hejnizen,  11.  Pearson,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Crooke.  It  was  here  I  again  met  my  old  New 
York  strolling  manager,  II.  A.  Williams,  who  was  en- 
gaged by  Mr.  Caldwell,  as  principal  low  comedian,  to 
supply  the  place  of  Mr.  Russell.  The  season  was 
short  and  very  unprofitable. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THEATRICALS    IN    MISSISSIPPI  AND  WEST    TENNESSEE. 

Eccentricities  of  Booth — Arrival  of  a  new  Actor — Departure  for 
the  Country  Towns — Memphis,  Somerville,  Bolivar — A  modern 
Caleb  Quotem — A  Log  Cabin  Theatre — Florence — Acting  in  a 
Garret — Tuscumbia — Huntsville — Preaching  and  Playing — Ar- 
rive at  Tuscaloosa. 

Mr.  Booth  was  nominally  our  stage  manager  this 
season,  in  New  Orleans,  (1828-9.)  His  "eccen- 
tricities," as  his  drunken  capers  have  been  charitably 
termed,  began  about  this  date,  and  interfered  some- 
what with  the  interests  of  the  theatre.  Mr.  Geor«e 
Holland  made  his  debut  in  the  burletta  of  a  "  Day 
after  the  Fair,"  and  was  immensely  successful.  More 
of  him  hereafter.  Mrs.  Knight  played  and  sung  a 
very  successful  engagement  this  season. 

On  the  7th  January,  1829,  my  son  Marcus  Smith 
was  born.  I  mention  him  out  of  all  my  children, 
because  he  is  the  only  one  of  them  who  has  chosen 
the  stage  as  a  profession.* 

*  The  following  extract  from  an  editorial  report  of  the  opening 
of  the  St.  Charles  Theatre  for  the  season  of  1849-50,  will  show 
that  Master  Marcus  appeared  upon  the  stage  of  his  native  city 
with  a  fair  chance  of  attaining  popularity. 

"  Family  Jars"  was  then  performed,  in  which  Sol.  Smith,  as 
Old  Delph,  kept  the  house  in  a  continued  roar  of  laughter.  In 
this  character  he  is  certainly  unapproachable.  Mr.  Marcus  Smith, 
as  Diggory,  made  his  first  debut  before  an  audience  in  his  native 
city.  He  evinces  much  talent,  and  is  a  worthy  scion  of  a  worthy 
stock.     They  were  applauded  to  the  echo,  and  "  take  my  hat"  was 

(32) 


THEATRICALS    IN    MISSISSIPPI,    ETC.  33 

The  company  was  divided  about  the  middle  of  the 
season,  and  a  part  sent  to  Natchez,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Mr.  Booth,  who  exhibited  many  "  eccentrici- 
ties" to  the  people  of  the  Bluff  City,  and  more  parti- 
cularly to  that  portion  of  them  who  inhabited  the 
faubourg  situated  "  Under  the  Hill." 

Before  the  close  of  this  season,  my  brother  and 
myself  obtained  leave  to  withdraw  from  the  company, 
for  the  purpose  of  organizing  a  small  strolling  con- 
cern, intended  to  operate  on  the  principal  towns  of 
Mississippi  and  West  Tennessee,  commencing  at  Port 
Gibson,  where  our  re-appearance  was  warmly  greeted 
by  the  inhabitants.  After  performing  at  this  village 
for  a  couple  of  weeks,  we  proceeded  to  the  flourishing 
town  of  Vicksburqh,  where  a  small  theatre*  was 

twice  the  cry  of  enthusiastic  admirers  as  they  flung  their  beavers 
at  the  feet  of  Old  Sol.  The  Messrs.  Smith,  Sr.  and  Jr.,  when 
"Family  Jars"  were  settled,  were  called  for  amid  an  uproar.  The 
former  made  a  handsome  speech  on  the  occasion : 

"  Twenty-two  years  ago,"  said  he,  "before  the  birth  of  my  son, 
I  trod  the  boards  in  this  city  in  the  identical  character  which  I 
have  enacted  this  evening.  The  kindness  with  which  you  then 
received  me  has  been  generously  continued  throughout  my  pro- 
fessional career.  In  the  course  of  nature,  it  is  not  probable  that 
I  shall  remain  long  among  you  as  an  actor;  but  1  leave  my  son  to 
take  my  place,  and  if  he  be  so  fortunate  as  to  receive  the  same 
testimonies  of  regard  and  kind  consideration  from  the  inhabitants 
of  his  native  city  which  bis  father  has  received,  he  will  have 
nothing  to  regret.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  thank  you  for  him 
and  for  myself.'' 

There  was  a  storm  of  applause. — N.  0.  Picayune,  Nov.  11,  L849. 

i  The  last  time  1  passed  Vicksburgb  this  old  building  was  still 
standing.  It  is  situated  Dear  the  "  gully,"  in  the  upper  part,  of 
the  town,  and  has  been  for  some  years  used  as  a  stable.  "  To 
what  base  uses,"  &c. 

Several  theatres  have  been  erected  in  Vicksburgb,  and  have 
been  burnt  nearly  as  soon  as  completed. 


<>  lit 


34  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

erected  by  a  Thespian  Society,  and  leased  to  us. 
Here  we  acted  for  four  weeks,  with  unvaried  success ; 
and  after  returning  for  a  week  or  two  to  our  starting 
point,  (Port  Gibson,)  where  we  played  with  but  mode- 
rate success,  we  proceeded  to  Memphis,  then  a  very 
small  river  town  at  the  mouth  of  Wolf  Creek,  in 
West  Tennessee.  Here  we  performed  in  a  room 
fitted  up  for  the  occasion  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Young, 
next  to  his  large  warehouse,  then  on  the  banks  of  the 
river.  Old  Mississippi  has  since  moved  away  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  Uncle  Sam's  Navy  Yard 
now  occupies  the  ground  where  the  Father  of  Waters 
formerly  traced  his  channel.  Memphis,  in  1829, 
contained  about  six  hundred  inhabitants,  and  was 
considered  a  "  thriving  place."  Look  at  it  now ! 
(1853.) 

Our  operations  were  commenced  in  Memphis  on 
the  23d  of  May,  1829,  and  we  performed  eight  nights, 
closing  on  the  3d  of  June,  the  total  receipts  being 
$319  ! — an  average  of  less  than  $40  per  night.  If 
my  friend  Jim  Charles  does  not  receive  as  much  in  a 
single  night  as  I  received  in  nearly  two  weeks,  he  is 
not  making  money  very  rapidly. 

On  leaving  this  city  our  "  journey-tvork"  com- 
menced in  reality.  The  conveyances  to  be  obtained 
at  this  early  date  were  anything  but  elegant.  Com- 
mon road  wagons,  drawn  by  from  four  to  six  horses 
each,  bore  this  small  band  of  Thespians  through  the 
"  Western  District,"  if  not  in  very  great  style,  cer- 
tainly in  great  safety  and  at  an  extremely  moderate 
pace.  Our  first  stopping  place  was  Somerville, 
where  the  inhabitants  insisted  on  our  giving  an  enter- 
tainment, which  was  attended  by  the  whole  village, 


THEATRICALS    IN    MISSISSIPPI,    ETC.  35 

the  receipts  amounting  to  .$39.  We  gave  them  the 
"  Day  after  the  Wedding,"  and  a  variety  of  songs 
and  dancing,  without  scenery,  and  with  a  very  small 
supply  of  lights.  Bolivar  was  our  next  station,  and 
here  a  room  was  very  nicely  fitted  up  for  our  per- 
formances, which  were  fully  attended,  considering  the 
size  of  the  village.  The  people  seemed  to  come  out 
of  the  woods  ;  but  they  gathered  every  night  in  such 
numbers  that  in  a  week  and  a  half  the  receipts 
amounted  to  $349,  which  was  an  average  of  nearly 
$37  per  night. 

Jackson  was  our  next  town,  and  here,  for  the  first 
and  last  time,  we  performed  in  a  log  theatre  !  A  tax 
was  required  to  be  paid  for  the  privilege  of  perform- 
ing in  this  village ;  but  the  municipal  government 
promptly  met  and  repealed  the  ordinance  which 
classed  the  drama  with  shows  and  rope-dancing  exhi- 
bitions. All  honor  to  them  for  it !  Their  example 
might  be  followed,  without  discredit,  by  the  corpora- 
tions of  older  and  larger  cities.  Our  receipts  in 
twelve  fights  amounted  to  $481 — about  $40  per 
night. 

The  citizen  of  whom  we  rented  the  log  building 
which  we  temporarily  converted  into  a  temple  of 
Thespis,  bore  the  name  of  Cloud — Caleb  Quotem 
would  have  been  a  more  appropriate  appellation  for 
this  gentleman ;  for  his  occupations  were  as  various 
as  the  individual  so  named,  if  not  "  more  so."  He 
was  town  constable,  clerk  of  the  market,  auctioneer, 
nuisance  master,  painter  (sign  and  ornamental),  car- 
penter, joiner,  negro  whipper,  tyler  of  a  masonic 
lodge,  sexton,  hair  cutter,  shaver  (of  bank  notes  and 
chins),  grocer,  whitewasher,  proprietor  of  the   thca- 


36  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

tre,  guager  of  spirituous  liquors,  baker,  and  deputy 
sheriff! 

A  Mr.  Rudicel  was  not  far  behind  his  neighbor 
Cloud  in  the  number  of  his  callings.  He  was  a 
dealer  in  dry  goods  and  groceries,  saddle  and  harness 
maker,  (all  at  different  stores,)  tanner  and  currier, 
trunk  manufacturer,  tinner,  butcher,  boot  and  shoe 
maker,  brewer,  carpenter,  justice  of  the  peace,  mem- 
ber of  the  town  council,  and  had  a  monkey  to  show  ! 
In  the  town  of  Florence,  Alabama,  which  was  our 
next  place  of  stopping,  we  played  in  the  garret  of 
the  principal  hotel,  (the  largest  room  in  the  place,) 
but  with  poor  success,  our  total  receipts  in  seven 
nights  amounting  to  but  $251. 

At  Tuscumbia  we  fared  still  worse,  receiving  only 
$150  for  six  nights'  performances. 

Our  "journey-work"  was  suspended  for  one  month 
at  Huntsville,  where  we  played  eighteen  nights  in 
the  beautiful  little  theatre  which  graces  that  city,  to 
but  a  trifle  over  an  average  of  $50  per  night.  We 
performed  only  four  nights  in  the  week ;  but  I  find 
by  a  memorandum  made  at  the  time  that  there  was 
'•  preaching  every  night."  The  preachers  carried 
the  day — and  the  night  too, — and  we  wTere  very  glad 
to  escape  from  Huntsville  without  a  serious  pecuniary 
loss.  My  brother  Lemuel  and  his  wife  withdrew 
from  the  company  at  the  close  of  the  season  here, 
and  went  to  Cincinnati,  where  he  started  a  little 
"journey-work"  on  his  own  hook,  progressing  as 
far  as  Pittsburgh,  where  he  disbanded  his  forces  the 
following  spring  without  making  a  fortune. 

For  myself  and  family,  with  the  traveling  band  of 
strolling  dramatists,  we  pursued  our  way  southwardly, 


THEATRICALS    IN    MISSISSPPI,    ETC.  37 


and  in  due  time  brought  up  at  the  seat  of  govern- 
ment, Tuscaloosa,  where  we  played,  with  slight  in- 
terruptions, from  the  9th  of  September  until  the 
8th  of  January,  to  houses  which  barely  paid  expenses, 
without  giving  a  dollar  to  the  manager  by  way  of 
profit. 


CHAPTER  \. 

FIRE    IN    A    THEATRE. 
Great  Alarm — A  palpable  Hit,  and  Nobody  hurt. 

The  cry  of  "  Fire  !"  in  a  theatre  is  a  most  alarm- 
ing sound.  It  is  alarming  any  where,  but  in  a  theatre 
particularly  so.  Ever  since  the  burning  of  the  Rich- 
mond Theatre,  whereby  a  great  number  of  persons 
perished,  the  least  alarm  of  any  kind  amongst  a  large 
assemblage  is  attributed  to  fire,  and  a  rush  is  sure  to 
be  made  for  the  doors — the  "  Richmond  fire"  being 
uppermost  in  the  minds  of  all. 

Among  the  expedients  resorted  to  during  the  some- 
what protracted  season  at  the  seat  of  government  of 
Alabama,  while  awaiting  the  assembling  of  the  legis- 
lature, to  draw  audiences  to  our  little  theatre,  was 
the  production  of  the  pantomime  of  "  Don  Juan  ;  or, 
The  Libertine  Destroyed,"  with  all  the  •"  accessories" 
of  snakes  spitting  flames,  fiends  with  torches,  red  fire 
and  blue  blazes,  in  the  last  scene,  which  was  repre- 
sented in  the  bills  of  the  day  to  be  no  other  than  the 
infernal  regions,  into  which  the  amorous  Don  was 
to  be  cast,  without  benefit  of  clergy  ! 

This  was  all  very  well  in  the  bills;"  and  the  boys 
about  town  were  curious  to  know  what  sort  of  a  place 
it  was  they  had  heard  so  much  about,  but  never  yet 
gotten  a  glimpse  of.  They  ran  home  to  their  daddies 
and  mammies,  and  told  them  all  about  the  "  great 
preparations"  going  on  at  the  theatre — their  daddie3 
(38) 


FIRE    IN    A    THEATRE.  39 

and  mammies  told  the  neighbors — and  by  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  it  was  pretty  generally  known  about 
town  that  "  PI — 11"  was  to  be  played  at  the  theatre 
that  night.    The  consequence  was — a  very  full  house. 

Everything  went  well  until  the  "  last  scene  of 
all."  Don  Juan  clambered  into  upper  windows, 
(six  feet  high) — committed  divers  murders ;  escaped 
in  a  ship ;  was  cast  ashore ;  had  a  dance  with  the 
peasantry ;  was  invited  to  sup  with  a  spectre  on 
horseback  ;  did  the  honors  of  the  table  with  great 
propriety,  and  accepted  in  return  an  invitation  to  sup 
with  the  marble  statue  in  a  grave  yard.  Scaramouch, 
the  Don's  attendant,  had  his  fun,  too ;  and  what  with 
riding  on  the  back  of  a  dolphin,  dancing  with  fisher- 
men's wives,  and  eating  maccaroni,  he  had  rather  a 
pleasant  time  of  it. 

"  Everybody  for  the  last  scene !"  was  called  out 
in  the  green  room  ;  the  fiends  sprang  to  their  places, 
the  snakes  were  wriggled  into  their  situations  behind 
each  wing — the  pots  of  red  and  blue  fire  were  man- 
ned, and  a  brilliant  ending  of  the  pantomime  was 
anticipated — when  suddenly  an  alarm  of  fire  was 
heard  in  the  front  of  the  house  !  Confusion  followed, 
of  course ;  the  auditors  tumbled  over  each  other,  all 
pushing  for  the  openings — and  I  am  happy  to  say, 
that  all  but  one  got  safely  out.  I  will  tell  you  pre- 
sently about  that  one;  but  first  it  is  proper  to  explain 
the  cause  of  the  alarm,  for  this  time  it  had  a  cause, 
which  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  burning 
of  one  of  the  wood  wings,  the  fire  having  communi- 
cated from  one  of  the  pots  of  blue  fire,  the  ingredients 
of  which  had  not  been  properly  apportioned.  On  the 
instant  of  the  alarm,  the  curtain  had  been  lowered, 


40  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

and  in  less  than  a  minute  the  burning  wing  had  been 
torn  down  and  the  fire  extinguished,  not,  however, 
until  the  canvass  had  been  burnt  from  the  frame.  In 
the  hottest  of  the  rumpus,  a  man  named  Somerville 
cut  his  way  through  the  curtain,  and  in  endeavroing 
to  stamp  out  the  burning  piece  of  scenery,  the  pot  of 
blue  fire  being  unseen  by  him,  he  put  his  foot  in  it, 
and  the  lower  part  of  his  leg  was  very  badly  burned. 
He  was  confined  to  his  room  for  several  weeks. 

Next  day  after  the  fire — or  the  alarm  of  fire — the 
town  rung  with  an  account  of  the  danger  encountered 
by  the  audience  the  night  previous.  The  whole  affair 
was  greatly  exaggerated.  It  was  said,  that  in  an 
attempt  to  represent  the  "  infernal  regions"  on  the 
stage,  the  scenery  had  caught  fire — the  whole  theatre 
only  escaping  utter  destruction  by  the  intrepid  daring 
of  young  Somerville,  who  had  barely  escaped  with 
his  life.  The  bigoted  portion  of  the  Tuscaloosans 
seized  upon  the  circumstance,  and  held  it  up  as  a 
warning  to  all  play-goers,  and  shaking  their  heads 
ominously,  said  they  knew  all  along  that  no  good 
could  possibly  come  from  encouraging  profane  stage 
plays  in  a  Christian  community.  The  truth  is,  the 
tide  of  public  sentiment  was  fast  setting  in  against 
our  poor  little  theatre,  and  I  felt  it  was  incumbent  on 
me  to  do  something  to  stem  it.  My  plan  was  soon 
laid,  and  immediately  executed. 

I  must  here  state,  that  the  instant  the  fire  had 
been  extinguished,  and  the  house  cleared  of  the 
alarmed  public,  I  called  the  scene  painter,  and  told 
him  I  would  give  him  a  week's  salary  if  he  would 
produce  a  wood  wing  the  next  morning,  exactly  simi- 


FIRE    IN   A   THEATRE.  41 

lar  to  the  one  burned.  This  he  undertook  to  do,  and 
accomplished. 

During  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  "  I  mixed 
with  the  people,"  and  ascertained  that  all  were  fear- 
ful of  witnessing  a  repetition  of  Don  Juan — indeed  it 
seemed  to  be  a  pretty  well  understood  thing  that  no 
audience  could  be  collected  together  in  that  building 
again  !  What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  new  theatre  at 
Montgomery  (my  next  stand)  was  not  yet  finished, 
nor  would  it  be  in  less  than  four  or  five  weeks. 

My  plan  was  this : — I  must  convince  the  people 
that  there  had  been  no  fire — that  what  they  had  seen 
was  only  an  imitation  ! 

Collecting  together  a  committee  of  respectable  citi- 
zens, we  all  took  a  drink  and  proceeded  to  the  thea- 
tre. "  Gentlemen,"  said  I,  after  seating  them  on  the 
front  bench,  "  it  has  been  reported,  much  to  the 
injury  of  my  interests,  and  the  interests  of  the  drama, 
that  there  was  a  fire  here  last  night.  My  object  in 
asking  you  hither,  is  to  disabuse  you,  and  through 
you  the  public  of  Tuscaloosa  on  this  subject."  Here 
one  of  the  cutest  of  the  committee  observed — "  Come, 
Smith,  that  won't  exactly  do ;  I  was  here  myself, 
and  there  certainly  was  a  fire — something  of  a  fire ; 
for  before  the  curtain  was  lowered,  I  saw  one  of  them 
wings,  I  think  you  call  them,  all  in  a  bright  flame." 

"My  worthy  friend, "  I  replied,  "I  don't  in  the 
least  doubt  you  think  you  saw  it  in  a  bright  flame,  as 
you  say ;  but  my  object  is  to  convince  you  that  you 
labored  under  an  optical  illusion." 

"  Optical  h — 11  and  d — n  !"  exclaimed  rather  has- 
tily the  aforesaid  speaker — "  I  tell  you  I  saw  with 

4 


42  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

my  own  eyes  that  scenery  which  stood  down  there  at 
your  left,  all  in  a  blaze." 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear  sir,"  calmly  replied  I — 
"  you  think  you  saw  it ;  but  I'll  convince  you  in  one 
moment  of  your  error." 

Here  I  called  the  carpenter,  and  asked  him  to  place 
the  first  wood  wing  in  its  appropriate  groove.  This 
he  did  almost  instantly. 

"  There,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  pointing  to  the  newly 
painted  piece  of  scenery,  triumphantly, — "  I  believe 
you  will  recognize  that ;  you  have  seen  it  often 
enough." 

A  close  examination  now  took  place,  the  result  of 
which  was  the  firm  belief  that  it  was  the  same  wing 
they  had  supposed  to  be  destroyed  by  fire.  The 
committee  of  citizens  unanimously  agreed  that  the 
imitation  of  fire  the  night  previous  had  been  most 
perfect,  and  gave  me  a  certificate,  which  I  published 
in  an  extra  poster,  that  they  had  investigated  the 
whole  subject,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  had  been  a  false  alarm  of  fire  in  the  theatre, 
and  that  there  was  no  danger  whatever  in  visiting 
that  admirably  conducted  establisment.  "  Don  Juan" 
had  a  "  run,"  and  was  the  most  successful  piece  of 
the  season — the  last  scene  being  particularly  ap- 
plauded for  its  truthful  representation  of  the  infernal 
regions. 

But  poor  Somerville  ! — where  was  he  all  this 
time  ?  He  had  heard  of  the  reports  about  town,  that 
the  fire  was  all  a  sham  ;  but  he  was  confined  to  his 
room  from  the  effects  of  this  sham  fire.  One  day  he 
came  limping  to  the  theatre. 


FIRE   IN    A   THEATRE.  43 

"  Look  here,  old  fellow,"  said  he — "  what  is  all 
this  they've  been  telling  me  about  your  sham  fires  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  say  that  this  burn  I've  got  on  my 
leg  was  inflicted  by  sham  fire?" 

"  My  dear  sir,"  I  replied,  gravely — "I  don't  know 
how  you  got  your  hurt ;  I  remember  seeing  you  in 
here  during  the  alarm — and  if  you  got  injured  in 
your  efforts  to  extinguish  what  you  supposed  to  be 
the  flames,  I  regret  it  exceedingly." 

"  But,"  expostulated  Somerville,  "  do  you  mean  to 
say,  that  one  of  your  wings  was  not  in  a  bright 
blaze  ?" 

"  I  mean  to  say,"  replied  I,  "  that  one  of  the  wings 
might  have  appeared  to  be  burning — but  there  is  the 
wing  to  speak  for  itself,"  I  continued,  pointing  it  out. 

It  was  a  somewhat  remarkable  wing.  It  stood 
front  of  all  the  rest,  and  was  therefore  familiar  to  the 
view  of  the  audience.  It  was  moreover  of  a  peculiar 
kind,  being  composed  principally  of  the  body  of  a 
large  tree,  with  a  dead  limb  on  one  side  and  a  tre- 
mendous knothole  on  the  other.  It  was  a  wing  to  be 
remembered. 

Somerville  took  a  good  look  at  the  renovated  wing 
— went  around  it,  viewed  it  in  every  light — felt  of  it, 
and  at  last,  being  apparently  perfectly  satisfied, 
observed,  as  he  limped  away — 

"Well,  I'll  be  d— d  if  that  fire  wasn't  the  best 
imitation  I  ever  saw  !" 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THEATRICAL  PIONEERING  ON  THE  ALABAMA  RIVER. 

Montgomery — Two  worthy  citizens — Madame  Feron,  the  Canta- 
trice — Queer  substitutes  for  an  Orchestra — Thomas  Hamblin — 
Selma — A  theatre-going  community — Mobile. 

Previous  to  this  time  I  had  made  a  contract  with 
Mr.  Caldwell  to  lease  from  him  the  Natchez  Theatre 
for  a  spring  season  ;  and  it  was  now  time  to  wend  my 
way  to  open  that  establishment,  in  order  to  "  catch 
the  stars"  as  they  passed  up  from  New  Orleans  to  the 
cities  of  the  Western  country ;  but  receiving  from 
Montgomery  a  warm  invitation  to  visit  that  town, 
and  occupy  for  a  limited  period  a  beautiful  new 
theatre,  just  erected  by  a  Thespian  Society,  instead 
of  taking  a  boat  for  Mobile,  on  our  way  to  Natchez, 
(through  New  Orleans,)  we  once  more  betook  our- 
selves to  the  large  road  wagons,  and  in  five  days 
found  ourselves,  "  bag  and  baggage,"  at  the  place 
which  is  now  the  seat  of  government  of  Alabama. 

Here  I  beeame  acquainted  with  John  H.  Thor- 
ington,  a  lawyer  of  great  practice,  who  possessed  all 
the  qualities  requisite  to  constitute  a  good  man.  He 
is  no  longer  living  to  read  my  praises ;  but  it  affords 
me  a  melancholy  pleasure  to  record  his  unvarying 
kindness  to  me  and  mine.  As  mayor  or  intendant 
of  the  town,  some  years  afterwards,  he  took  a  decided 
stand  against  the  gamblers  who  congregated  in 
Montgomery,  in  great  foree,  and  he  was  persecuted 
by  them  in  various  ways,  until  he  concluded  to  leave 
(44) 


THEATRICAL    PIONEERING.  45 


the  place,  and  remove  to  the  western  country.  In 
Iowa  he  was  afflicted  with  a  disease  consequent  upon 
the  severe  climate,  which  settled  into  his  limbs,  caus- 
ing paralysis,  and  threatening  his  life.  In  hopes  of 
relief,  he  was  taken  to  New  Orleans,  and  placed  as  a 
boarder  in  the  Charity  Hospital,  where  he  ended  his 
days.  I  was  with  him  while  he  was  lying  on  his  death- 
bed, and  afforded  him  at  least  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  he  had  a  friend  near  him.  Poor  Thoring- 
ton  !  He  could  not  speak  his  thanks  ;  but  the  pres- 
sure of  his  hand,  even  after  he  had  lost  the  ability  to 
raise  his  arm,  told  me  that  his  stout  Irish  heart  re- 
tained its  warmth  to  the  last  pulsation. 

There  were  other  warm  and  true  friends  that  I 
made  in  Montgomery — George  Whitman,  for  one. 
At  the  time  I  write  of,  Mr.  Whitman  was  one  of 
the  first  merchants  of  the  place,  and  owned  real  estate 
sufficient  to  make  him  a  millionaire,  which  he  would 
undoubtedly  be  at  this  moment — if  he  had  held  on 
to  it. 

The  Montgomery  Theatre  opened,  in  an  un- 
finished state,  the  latter  part  of  January,  1830.  The 
attendance  was  good  for  two  weeks,  which  was  the 
limit  of  our  stay,  in  consequence  of  my  engagement 
at  Natchez.  Madame  Feron,  the  great  singer,  per- 
formed with  us  two  nights,  and  as  we  were  without  a 
regular  orchestra,  various  means  were  resorted  to  for 
an  accompaniment  to  her  songs.  A  piano-forte  was 
introduced  upon  the  stage,  and  she  accompanied  her- 
self in  some  pieces — in  others,  she  pressed  me  into 
the  service.  Thus  in  the  farce  entitled,  "  Of  Age 
to-morrow,"  the  dialogue  was  necessarily  changed  a 

little  from  the  original  text : 

4* 


46  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

Maria — I  had  a  lover  once. 

Baron — A  lover  ?     Twenty,  I  dare  say. 

Maria — But  he  deserted  me. 

Baron — Deserted  you?  Impossible?  What  had 
he  to  say  for  himself? 

Maria — He  said  nothing  ;  but  [if  you  11  have  the 
kindness  to  seat  yourself  at  that  piano,  and  give  me 
an  accompaniment]  I'll  tell  you  what  I  said  to  him.7' 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the  accomodating 
Baron  Willinghurst  (personated  by  the  writer  hereof,) 
seated  himself  at  the  piano,  and  the  beautiful  song, 
"  As  I  hang  on  your  bosom,"  was  gloriously  breathed 
forth  by  the  great  prima  donna  of  European  Opera, 
in  a  theatre  surrounded  by  uncut  trees,  and  occupied 
by  an  audience  whose  appreciation  was  as  warm  as  that 
of  the  dilettanti  of  Italy.  In  the  farce  of  "  No  Song 
no  Supper,"  to  account  for  the  presence,  in  Farmer 
Crop's  house,  of  so  rich  an  article  of  furniture  as  a 
piano-forte,  Crop  was  constrained  to  say  that  a  rich 
neighbour  had  stored  it  there  until  he  could  get  his 
new  house  ready  for  its  reception.  Thus  accounting 
for  the  instrument  being  there,  it  was  an  easy  matter 
to  ask  Margaretta  to  play  upon  it — then  a  song  was 
asked  for ;  and  after  that  another,  and  so  on. 
Madame  Feron  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene, 
and  seemed  to  enjoy  herself  very  much,  imparting 
her  good  humour  to  all  around,  both  before  and  be- 
hind the  curtain.  Mr.  Maddox,  since  manager  of  the 
Princess  Theatre,  London,  accompanied  Madame 
Feron,  as  her  man  of  business.  From  Montgomery 
she  proceeded  to  New  Orleans,  where  she  had  an 
engagement. 

In  two  weeks  we  received  in  Montgomery  the  sum 


THEATRICAL    PIONEERING.  47 

of  $883,  out  of  which  I  paid  Madame  Feron  $101  for 
her  two  nights  acting  and  singing. 

At  the  moment  of  departure  from  this  village,  I 
had  a  pleasant  interview  with  Mr.  Thomas  S.  Hamblin, 
who  was  returning  from  a  southern  engagement. 
While  revising  these  pages,  I  hear  of  his  decease ! 

We  proceeded  next  to  Selma,  a  very  small  village 
on  the  Alabama  river,  where  we  performed  nine 
nights  in  a  ball  room,  fitted  up  for  the  purpose,  to 
receipts  of  exactly  $70  per  night.  The  number  of 
inhabitants  did  not  exceed  400,  white,  black,  and 
children.  Those  who  visited  the  theatre,  visited  it 
every  night.  The  sheriff,  being  one  day  compelled  to 
leave  town  on  business,  came  and  left  his  dollar  at 
the  bar  of  the  hotel  where  we  performed  ! 

Arrived  at  Mobile,  I  was  strongly  urged  to  remain 
there  and  open  the  theatre,  a  shell  of  a  place  in  St. 
Francis  street,  which  was  offered  to  me  by  those  who 
represented  the  interests  of  Mr.  Ludlow,  by  whom  it 
was  built ;  but,  considering  myself  bound  to  open  the 
Natchez  Theatre,  I  pushed  on  to  that  city. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FIFTY  MILES  A  DAY TOUGH  JOURNEY-WORE. 

Back  to  Natchez — Bold  move  in  management — Dividing  the  Com 
pany — Journey-work  on  horseback — "  The  king's  name  a  tower 
of  strength" — Riding  post— Extract  from  Journal — Triumphant 
termination  of  the  season. 

The  Natchez  Theatre  opened  under  my  manage- 
ment on  the  10th  March,  1830,  with  the  following 
company :  Messrs.  II.  A.  Williams,  Crooke,  Kidd, 
Campion,  Marks,  Myers,  Tatem,  Cole,  Anderson, 
Perry,  Sol.  Smith  :  Mesdames  Smith,  Crooke,  Honey, 
Prescott,  Graham,  and  Miss  Vos — which  was  after- 
wards augmented  by  the  arrival  of  my  brother, 
Lemuel  Smith,  on  his  return  from  his  unsuccessful 
traveling  expedition  to  Pittsburgh,  and  other  Ohio 
river  towns,  where  he  experienced  the  usual  vicissi- 
tudes which  almost  invariably  attend  "  schemes"  of 
that  kind. 

Having  at  this  time  accumulated  a  sufficient  sum 
(about  $1100)  to  pay  all  my  debts  in  Cincinnati,  with 
interest,  I  was  very  anxious  to  proceed  thither,  and 
accomplish  the  object  of  my  seven  years'  toil.  But  I 
soon  found  that  my  hard  earnings  were  likely  to  be 
swept  away  by  a  failing  season  of  a  few  weeks  in 
Natchez.  I  now  became  sensible  of  the  folly  of  leav- 
ing my  "journey-work,"  hard  as  it  Avas,  for  the  luxury 
cf  the  "  regular  theatre."  At  the  close  of  the  first 
week,  the  receipts  fell  $150  short  of  the  expenditures  ; 
and  it  was  very  evident  that  there  was  no  likelihood  of 
48 


FIFTY  MILES  A  DAY — TOUGH  JOURNEY-WORK.       49 


an  improvement  in  the  business.  In  this  emergency  I 
ventured  upon  a  bold  plan  to  save  myself  from  loss. 
It  was  this :  I  divided  my  forces,  placing  my  old  New 
York  manager,  H.  A.Williams,  in  command  of  a  detach- 
ment for  Port  Gibson,  where  they  opened  the  theatre, 
and  continued  to  perform  three  nights  in  the  week  for 
nearly  five  weeks,  at  the  same  time  that  the  Natchez 
concern  was  in  operation  four  nights  in  the  week  ! 
Even  this  bold  manoeuvre  came  near  failing  to  ac- 
complish the  object  I  had  in  view,  the  receipts  falling 
far  below  my  anticipations  in  the  then  thriving  village 
of  Port  Gibson.  At  the  end  of  the  first  week's  trial 
there,  the  following  letter  from  my  Lieutenant  Gene- 
ral was  received : 

"Port  Gibson,  March  — ,  1830. 
"  My  Sovereign  : — This  expedition  must  be  a  fail- 
ure, unless  I  have  reinforcements.  I  have  only 
squeezed  out  of  the  Gibsonians  $162  in  three  trials, 
which,  after  paying  for  transportation,  and  fitting  up 
the  house,  gives  but  about  $50,  with  which  to  liqui- 
date a  salary  list  of  $200  and  upwards — to  say 
nothing  of  rent  and  printer's  bills.  Might  I  suggest, 
mighty  sovereign,  the  kind  of  force  best  calculated  to 
retrieve  our  lost  ground  here,  I  should  say,  come  and 
ACT  YOURSELF.  '  The  king's  name  is  a  tower  of 
strength,'  and  if  you  will  authorize  me  to  announce 
you  for  Wednesday,  as  Captain  Copp,  I  promise  you 
a  rich  return  from  the  treasury. 

"Your  faithful  subject, 

"  II.  A.  Williams, 
"  Gen.  of  2d  Division,  or  Forlorn  B.ope.,y 


50  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 


The  following  was  my  reply  : 

"  Theatre,  Natchez,  Sunday,  March  — ,  1830. 
"  Gen.  Williams  : — I'll  try  it.     Wednesday — Cap- 
tain Copp. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"Sol.  Smith." 

The  journey  of  fifty  miles  was  easily  performed  on 
horseback,  and  the  result  was  highly  satisfactory — 
the  treasurer's  return  being  for  that  single  night  $166 
— four  dollars  more  than  the  entire  receipts  of  the 
previous  week !  My  reception  was  enthusiastic  in 
the  extreme  ;  and  being  called  before  the  curtain,  at 
the  close  of  the  comedy  of  "  Charles  II.,"  I  promised 
a  second  visit. 

Returning  to  Natchez  the  next  day,  and  acting  in 
play  and  afterpiece  at  night,  the  Friday  morning 
found  me  stiff  and  nearly  done  up ;  nevertheless  I 
pushed  on  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise  made 
to  my  friends  at  Port  Gibson,  and  performed 
Delph,  on  Friday  night,  to  a  house  rising  $100. 
Acted  again  at  Natchez,  on  Saturday  night ;  and 
finding  by  the  meagre  receipts  at  P.  G.  on  the  same 
night,  (less  than  $20 !)  that  my  performing  the 
journey  every  day  between  our  two  towns  would 
probably  save  me  from  loss  on  the  season,  I  resolved 
to  encounter  the  fatigue,  and  made  arrangements  for 
a  relay  of  horses,  by  which  means  I  could  perform 
the  journey  in  five  hours.  This  feat  I  actually  ac- 
complished— traveling  fifty  miles  every  day  in  the 
week,  except  Sundays,  and  acting  every  night  for 
nearly  a  month  !  It  almost  killed  me  ;  and  I  feel 
the  effects   of  such  exertions  to  this  day.     But  my 


IFTY  MILES  A  DAY — TOUGH  JOURNEY-WORK.      51 

object  was  gained — my  profits  at  port  Gibson  equalled 
my  losses  at  Natchez,  and  I  was  enabled  to  carry  out 
my  long  cherished  wish  to  pay  my  debts. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  some  of  the  hard  working 
"  stock"  of  the  St.  Charles,  who  consider  it  something 
of  a  hardship  to  rise  in  the  morning  in  time  to  attend 
a  10  o'clock  rehearsal,  and  who  can  scarcely  accom- 
plish the  labor  of  studying  a  new  part  once  in  a  week, 
to  learn  how  I  managed  to  get  through  the  labor 
above  mentioned.  Premising  that  the  roads,  in  those 
days,  were  somewhat  muddy  and  deep,  I  give  a  short 

EXTRACT    FROM    MY   JOURNAL  : 

Wednesday.— Rose  at  break  of  day.  Horse  at  the  door.  Swal- 
lowed a  cup  of  coffee  while  the  boy  was  tying  on  leggings. 
Reached  Washington  at  8.  Changed  horses  at  9 — again  at  10 — 
and  at  11.  At  12  arrived  at  Port  Gibson.  Attended  rehearsal — 
settled  business  with  stage  manager.  Dined  at  4.  Laid  down 
and  endeavored  to  sleep  at  5.  Up  again  at  6.  Rubbed  down  and 
washed  by  Jim  (a  negro  boy.)  Dressed  at  7.  Acted  the  "  Three 
Singles"  and  "Splash."     To  bed  at  11  £. 

Thursday. — Rose  and  breakfasted  at  9.  At  10  attended  re- 
hearsal for  the  pieces  of  next  day.  At  1,  leggings  tied  on,  and 
braved  the  mud  for  a  fifty  miles'  ride.  Rain  falling  all  the  way. 
Arrived  at  Natchez  at  half-past  6.  Rubbed  down  and  took  supper. 
Acted  Ezekiel Homespun  and  Delph  to  a  poor  house.  To  bed  (stiff 
as  steel  yards)  at  12. 

Friday. — Cast  pieces — counted  tickets — attended  rehearsal  until 
1,  P.  M.  To  horse  again  for  Port  Gibson — arrived  at  7.  No  time 
to  eat  dinner  or  supper  !  Acted  in  the  "Magpie  and  Maid"  and 
"  No  Song  No  Supper,"  in  which  latter  piece  managed  to  get  a  few 
mouthfuls  of  cold  roasted  mutton  and  some  dry  bread,  they  being 
the  first  food  tasted  this  day!  &c,  &c  ,  &c,  &c,  &c. 

BUT  I  PAID  MY  DEBTS  ! 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

RETURN  TO  THE  ORESCENT  CITY. 

Cincinnati — Engagement  at  Louisville — Jim  Crow  Rice — Parson 
Parsons — "  My  Old  Woman" — Off  to  Nashville — No  success 
there — Bolivar  and  Memphis — The  "Rapid"  steamboat — Open- 
ing in  New  Orleans — The  Plebeians  and  Pelbians — Cast  of 
Henry  VIII. 

TnE  season  over,  and  all  matters  settled  up  with 
the  company,  who  proposed  to  visit  some  of  the 
Louisiana  towns,  enlisting,  for  the  time  being,  under 
the  banner  of  my  brother  Lemuel,  I  left  Natchez  with 
a  light  heart,  and  $1200  dollars  in  my  pocket,  for 
Cincinnati,  taking  Vicksburgh  in  my  way,  where 
we  performed  (my  wife  and  self)  with  manager  Jack- 
son, for  one-third  of  the  nightly  receipts,  clearing 
$175  in  three  nights. 

Arrived  at  Cincinnati,  Mr.  Ludlow,  then  manager 
of  the  Columbia  Street  Theatre,  offered  me  an  en- 
gagement for  a  few  nights,  which  I  accepted,  and 
played  31awworm  for  my  benefit.  This  engagement 
was  not  remunerative,  either  to  the  manager  or  my- 
self— the  benefit  night  being  the  only  one  which 
yielded  a  profit. 

A  summer's  rest  placed  me  on  my  legs  again  ;  and 
with  the  coming  of  the  fall  season  of  the  year,  came 
the  desire  to  resume  the  duties  of  my  arduous  pro- 
fession. After  negotiating  an  engagement  with  Mr. 
Caldwell  for  the  coming  winter  in  New  Orleans,  we 
accepted  an  offer  from  Mr.  Parsons,  acting  manager 
(52) 


RETURN    TO    THE    CRESCENT    CITT.  53 

for  Mr.  Drake,  to  perform  twenty  nights  in  Louis- 
ville, receiving  for  our  services  the  sum  of  $220. 
Mr.  T.  D.  Rice  was  a  member  of  the  company  here, 
and  was  busily  engaged  in  composing  and  arranging 
his  "  Jim  Crow"  songs,  which  afterwards  raised  him 
to  the  topmost  wave  of  popularity,  both  in  this 
country  and  England.  Charles  B.  Parsons,  the  add- 
ing manager,  took  upon  himself  the  leading  charac- 
ters in  tragedy,  and  played  Hamlet,  Brutes,  Vir- 
ginias, Rolla,  and  pale-face-hating  aboriginal  charac- 
ters, "written  expressly  for  him,"  much  to  his  own 
satisfaction,  and  that  of  the  public.  I  have  since 
heard  him  give  copious  extracts  from  the  speeches  of 
Hamlet,  in  the  pulpit — without,  however,  having  the 
candor  to  acknowledge  the  name  of  the  "  poet"  whose 
words  he  was  transplanting  into  his  sermons.  As  a 
Methodist  Preacher,  Mr.  Parsons  succeeds  better  than 
he  did  on  the  stage — at  least  I  think  so  ;  and  what's 
more,  I  believe  him  to  be  now  a  sincere  Christian — 
albeit  it  must  be  acknowledged  he  is  not  yet  entirely' 
free  from  the  besetting  sin  of  "  our  tribe" — vanity. 

Miss  Eliza  Petrie,  daughter  of  the  Mrs.  Petrie  who 
had  traveled  with  me  through  Tennessee  and  Alabama 
as  actress  of  the  old  ladies  of  the  drama,  was  the 
young  lady  of  the  Louisville  company.  She  possessed 
a  good  voice  for  singing,  and  was  beginning  to  be- 
come popular  with  the  public.  Mrs.  Rowe  was  the 
"  old  woman,"  and  her  husband  performed  the  duties 
of  prompter.  Old  Henderson  was  here  "  at  home," 
and  very  popular.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Muzzy 
were  useful  members  of  the  company,  as  were  Mr. 
and  Miss  Clarke.  My  wife  played  what  is  termed  the 
singing  business,  with  some  parts  in  comedy,  which 

5 


54         THEATRICAL  J  GURNET- WORK" 

rendered  her  a  favorite,  and  ensured  her  a  good  bene- 
fit, on  which  occasion  she  personated  the  Countess  in 
a  play  entited  "  My  Old  Woman."  My  benefit  was 
also  a  good  one,  after  taking  which,  our  engagement 
being  over,  we  proceeded  to  Nashville,  where  we 
were  engaged  to  act  six  or  eight  nights,  with  Messrs. 
Rowe,  Gray  and  Mondelli,  who  temporarily  had  the 
management  of  the  theatre.  All  I  remember  of  this 
engagement  is  this:  a  great  number  of  "stars,"  so 
called,  were  playing,  and  the  houses  were  awfully 
empty  !  The  names  of  Mr.  Caldwell,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Pearman,  Mr.  Geo.  Holland,  and  (to  make  matters 
worse)  the  writer  hereof  and  his  wife,  were  all  an- 
nounced in  naming  capitals  at  the  head  of  the  bill,  on  one 
occasion,  without  attracting  to  the  house  forty  dollars  ! 

It  was  at  this  time,  (on  our  way  to  Memphis,)  that, 
stopping  to  dine  at  Bolivar,  I  was  persuaded  to  re- 
main over  night,  to  "  give  an  entertainment,"  (as  I 
supposed,)  but  in  fact  to  preach  a  sermon  in  the 
Court-House  ! — the  landlord  having  previously  been 
told  that  I  had  been  "converted,"  and  had  left  the 
stage.  If  the  reader  of  this  narrative  has  favored  me  so 
far  as  to  glance  over  my  "  Theatrical  Apprenticeship 
and  Anecdotical  Recollections,"  he  or  she  will  here 
recognize  the  groundwork  of  the  sketch  entiled,  "  My 
First  and  Last  Sermon." 

At  Memphis,  on  our  way  to  New  Orleans,  we 
played  a  week,  with  a  profitable  result,  in  a  tempo- 
rary theatre,  under  the  management  of  my  brother 
Lemuel,  who  at  this  point  concluded  his  strolling  sum- 
mer season.  My  brother  and  the  principal  members 
of  his  party  joined  Mr.  Caldwell's  company,  and 
after  a  delay  of  two  weeks,  waiting  for  a  boat,  [we 


RETURN    TO    THE    CRESCENT    CITY.  55 

are  not  obliged  to  wait  so  long  now  a-days,]  the  con- 
centrated theatrical  force  made  their  way  to  the 
southern  emporium,  on  an  unusally  slow  boat  called 
the  "Rapid." 

The  veteran  tragedian,  Cooper,  came  this  season  to 
act  a  fortnight.  I  remember  seeing  him  play  Vir- 
ginius,  Beverly,  Sir  John  Falstaff,  (first  time,)  and 
Cardinal  Wolsey.  He  was  not  very  successful.  In 
"  Henry  IV."  Mr.  Holland  and  myself  were  cast  for 
the  carriers — Holland  being  announced  at  the  head 
of  the  bill  as  a  star ! 

Mr.  Pelby  also  played  an  engagement,  and  had 
some  disagreement  with  the  management,  which  led 
to  a  personal  encounter  between  him  and  the  stage 
manager,  Oowell.  A  large  portion  of  the  company 
sided  in  opinion  with  Mr.  Pelby,  supposing  him  to  be 
ill  used  on  account  of  his  being  an  American ;  and 
the  matter  frequently  forming  the  subject  of  discus- 
sion in  the  green  room,  the  prompter  one  night  be- 
came confused,  and  instead  of  calling  the  Roman 
citizens  to  the  stage  as  "  All  the  Plebeians"  bawled 
out,  "All  the  Pelbians  /"  which  caused  a  great 
lau^h  at  the  time.  A  lawsuit  was  the  result  of  the 
misunderstanding  between  Mr.  P.  and  the   manager, 

and    that    eventuated    in    a    verdict    for 1    don't 

know  which  of  the  parties,  and  now  I  don't  care. 

The  play  of  "  Henry  VIII."  was  produced  with 
great  splendor,  and  with  the  following  cast,  so  far  as 
my  memory  serves  me  : 

King  Henry  VIII.,       -        -     Mr.  J.  M.  Scott. 
Cardinel  Wolsey,  "    Cooper. 

Buckingham,  "    Pearson. 


56  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

Cromwell,    -  Mr.  Lullow. 

Lord  Sands,  "    Sol.  Smith. 

Queen  Katherine,  -         -     Miss  Jane  Placide. 

Anne  Boleyn,       ...     Mrs.  Rowe. 
Patience,  (with  song  "  Angels  ever  bright,")  Mrs. 
Sol.  Smith. 

Mr.  Cooper  appeared  twice  as  Jack  Fahtaff,  which 
character  he  personated,  according  to  my  poor  judg- 
ment, better  than  any  individual  who  had  undertaken 
it  on  the  American  stage  since  the  days  of  Cooke, 
whose  style  he  followed  as  nearly  as  he  could. 

Clara  Fisher  performed  a  successful  engagement 
here  this  season,  [1880-31.]  A  beautiful  actress  she 
then  was,  and  a  beautiful  woman — the  latter  she  is 
yet,  to  my  eyes.  I  have  not  seen  her  act  since  the 
above  date ;  but  she  must  be  (as  Mrs.  Maeder)  a 
most  desirable  person  in  a  dramatic  company,  for  she 
cannot  be  persuaded  away  from  New  York,  where  she 
is  yearly  "  scrambled"  for  by  the  managers. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

NATCHEZ   AND    ST.  LOUIS — JOURNEY-WORK    RESUMED. 

Detachment  for  Natchez — Failing  Season  at  St.  Louis — Organiza- 
tion for  more  Journey- Work. 

It  became  the  policy  of  the  management  to  make  a 
season  at  Natchez,  for  the  purpose  of  sending  thither 
some  of  the  "  stars"  who  visited  New  Orleans.  A 
detachment  of  the  company  was  according  detailed  for 
that  city,  and  the  command  given  to  Mr.  Ludlow. 
My  brother  Lem  and  myself,  with  my  wife,  (Lem's 
wife  remained  at  Cincinnati,)  were  among  the  unhappy 
conscripts.  With  great  reluctance  we  departed  for 
the  City  of  the  Bluffs,  for  we  had  provided  ourselves 
with  comfortable  winter  quarters  in  the  Crescent  City. 
However,  there  was  no  appeal  from  Manager  Cald- 
well's decisions — and  if  you  attempted  to  remonstrate 
with  him  on  any  subject,  he  was  sure  to  convince  you 
that  you  were  in  the  wrong  !     So  we  went  to  Natchez. 

In  consequence  of  what  I  then  considered  and  do 
yet  consider  the  injustice  of  the  management  towards 
my  wife,  in  Natchez,  I  withdrew  her  from  the  theatre 
during  the  early  part  of  the  season,  and  she  conse- 
quently did  not  appear  again  until  my  benefit,  which 
was  a  very  great  one,  yielding  a  receipt  of  two  hun- 
dred dollars  more  than  than  that  of  any  other  mem- 
ber of  the  company.  During  the  season  Miss  Clara 
Fisher,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Plumer,  Mr.  Charles  Kean  and 
Mr.  J.  M.  Scott  performed  starring  engagements, 
which  were  more  or  less  profitable  (generally  less)  to 

5*  (57) 


58  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


the  proprietor.     Upon  the  whole,  the  season   could 
not  be  said  to  be  a  successful  one. 

Accepting  a  re-engagement  with  Mr.  Caldwell,  we 
next  went  with  the  company  to  St.  Louis,  where  the 
season  was  an  utter  failure.  I  find,  by  reference  to 
some  scraps  of  memoranda,  that  the  theatre  closed  in 
July,  and  the  main  body  of  the  dramatic  forces  pro- 
ceeded to  Louisville,  (still  under  the  management  of 
Viceroy  Ludlow,)  whilst  I,  with  a  small  party,  gathered 
together  in  haste,  opened  the  St.  Louis  Salt  House 
Theatre  at  half  price,  and  did  a  thriving  business  for 
two  weeks.  The  newly  organized  company  consisted 
of  Messrs.  L.  Smith,  (leading  actor  in  tragedy,  and 
light  comedy,)  Pearson,  Carter,  Baily,  Short,  Palmer, 
Jones,  Wilkins,  Mrs.  Sol.  Smith,  (leading  actress,) 
Mrs.  Carter,  Mrs.  Palmer  and  Miss  Carter.  Baily 
was  the  most  useful  man  I  ever  employed.  Besides 
acting,  and  singing  between  the  pieces,  he  was  "  Pro- 
perty Man,"  and  attended  entirely  to  the  fitting  up 
of  our  temporary  theatres  while  we  were  journey- 
ing. St.  Louis  at  this  time  contained  less  than  7000 
inhabitants. 

From  St.  Louis  we  traveled  on  the  steamer  Pow- 
hattan.  Col.  Twiggs,  of  the  army,  was  among  the 
passengers.  I  had  the  happiness  of  forming  his 
acquaintance,  and  found  him  to  be  a  most  agreeable 
gentleman.  When  I  left  the  boat,  he  presented  me 
with  an  Indian  pipe,  which  I  carefully  preserved  for 
the  fire  of  1838,  in  Mobile. 


CHAPTER   X. 

SECOND    SEASON    IN    WEST    TENNESSEE. 

Third  visit  to  Memphis — Bolivar,  Florence  and  Tuscumbia — Eulo- 
gistic Poetry — Columbia — Thespian  Theatre  at  Pulaski — The 
Stage  Struck  YouDg  Lady — A  Black  Cloud — The  Chase. 

Our  first  halting  place,  in  this  our  new  campaign, 
■was  Memphis.  Here  we  performed  seven  nights  with 
indifferent  success,  and  then  departed  for  Bolivar, 
•where  my  former  landlord  received  me  with  open  arms, 
having  found  out  that  the  report  of  my  having  retired 
from  the  stage  and  taken  to  preaching,  was  all  a  mis- 
take. I  think,  however,  my  "  First  and  Last  Sermon" 
must  have  converted  a  good  many  of  the  Bolivarians, 
for  they  no  longer  flocked  to  the  theatre,  as  on  the 
occasion  of  our  former  visit.  Our  total  receipts  in 
six  nights  amounted  to  but  $151.  We  left,  and  I 
have  never  visited  that  village  since — either  as  an 
actor  or  as  a  preacher. 

In  Florence  we  fared  no  better — the  receipts 
averaging  about  the  same  as  at  Bolivar.  We  tried  a 
week  over  at  Tuscumbia  ;  but  a  religious  excitement 
prevailing  there  at  the  time,  (one  lady,  a  Mrs.  Good- 
low,  hanged  herself  in  her  ecstasy,)  we  played  but 
six  nights,  to  an  average  of  $42  per  night,  and  quit. 
The  only  other  incident  of  interest,  during  our  stay 
in  this  place,  was  the  evident  impression  I  made  on 
the  susceptible  heart  of  some  young  lady,  which 
caused  her  to  break  out  in  the  following  paraphrase 
of  some  old  verses,  through  the  newspaper  : 

(59) 


60  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

TO  "  OLD  SOL"— The  Western  Comedian. 

BY    A    YOUNG    LADY    OF    TUSCUMBIA. 

Let  bigots  rail  against  the  stage, 

In  senseless  declamation  dull ; 
They  ne'er,  with  all  their  rant  and  rago, 

Could  calm  a  heart,  like  thee,  "  Old  Sol!" 

Let  others  praise  the  Forrest  green, 
And  some  their  Booths  will  yet  extol ; 

But  to  expel  the  blues  or  spleen, 

You're  for  my  money,  yet,  "  Old  Soil" 

Let  dandies  stay  at  home  and  gaze 

Upon  some  automaton  doll ; 
Such  senseless  beings,  some  may  please, 

Because  they've  never  seen  thee,  "  Soil" 

And  lovers,  too,  be  highly  pleased 

While  pleading  to  some  Pegg  or  Poll, — 

I'd  with  such  nonsense  ne'er  be  teazed 

While  I  could  hear  thee  plead,  "  Old  Sol!" 

Farewell,  and  may  it  be  thy  lot, 

Where'er  you  go  t'have  houses  full — 

And  when  you  come  this  way,  I  wot, 
We'll  treat  you  with  a  Bumper,  "  SOL !" 

Uur  next  town  was  Columbia,  (Tenn.,)  where  we 
acted  twelve  nights  in  a  very  neat  little  theatre, 
owned  by  a  histrionic  association,  and  our  receipts 
reached  $60  per  night.  I  find,  on  reference  to  my 
cash  book,  that  the  comedy  of  the  "  Hypocrite"  was 
the  most  attractive  piece  we  played  about  these  days. 

At  the  spirited  little  town  of  Pulaski  we  performed 
a  week,  in  the  theatre  belonging  to  the  Thespian 
Society,  to  very  good  houses.  Previous  to  commenc- 
ing, we  attended  a  representation  of  the  society,  by 


SECOND    SEASON    IN   WEST   TENNESSEE.  61 

invitation,  and  I  must  say  I  have  seldom  enjoyed  a 
performance  more  than  on  that  oceasion.    The  theatre 
was    about    sixty    feet    long    and    thirty    wide.      No 
boxes — all  pit.     Over   the  curtain  were  two  ill-pro- 
portioned mermaids,  or  some  other  nondescript  ani- 
mals, blowing  trumpets,  and  supporting  a  scroll  with 
these   words   inscribed    upon    it :    "  The    world    in 
miniature."   Underneath  this  motto  was  painted  what 
was  intended   to  be  a  representation  of  a  pile   of 
drums,  trumpets,  fiddles,  guitars,  and  cannon  balls ; 
the  remainder  of   a  very  high  proscenium,  tapering 
off  at  the  top   like   the  gable-end  of  a  house,  was 
painted  to  resemble  brick  I     This  embellishment  was 
hugely  admired  by  the  Pulaskians ;  and  I  was  called 
upon  for  my  opinion  of  the  decorations.     Of  course  I 
admired   them  very  much.     The   Thespian  perform- 
ances  consisted    of   the    "  Soldier's    Daughter,"   and 
"Three  Weeks  after  Marriage."   The  costume  adopted 
by  the  amateur  actors  was  ludicrous  in  the  extreme. 
The  reading  and  acting  were  equally  so.    The  gentle- 
men wore  their   hats    pulled  down  over  their   eyes 
during    the    whole    evening,    as    if  fearful    of  being 
known.     The    ladies   (made    of  large    boys)    strided 
about    in   a  very   peculiar   and   unfeminine   manner. 
Young  Malfort  entered  through  a  back  window  !  and 
justified  the  step  by  the  language  of  the  text,  which 
makes  him  say,  "  I  believe  I  have  mistaken  the  apart- 
ment."    Frank  Heartall,  in  expressing  his  extrava- 
gant joy  at  finding  his  supposed  rival  is  a  brother  of 
the  widow,  instead  of  making  use  of  the   language 
selected  for  that   purpose  by  the  author,  broke  out 
in  the  following  strain :   "  I  am  so  happy  that  I  could 
jump  over  the  Ohio,  wade  up  the  Mississippi,  aud 


62  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

tow  two  steamboats  over  the  Falls  at  Louisville  !" 
In  the  afterpiece  Sir  Charles  Raekett  changed  the 
game  of  whist  to  that  of  poker,  as  being  a  game  better 
understood  in  that  section  of  country,  and  swore  at 
his  wife  at  a  terrible  rate,  using  the  profane  expres- 
sion, "  By  G — d  !"  at  least  fifty  times  ! 

A  fair-haired  girl,  sixteen  years  of  age,  followed  us 
to  this  place  from  Columbia,  with  a  determination  to 
join  the  company  and  become  an  actress.  I  dis- 
suaded her  from  her  purpose ;  but  she  persisted. 
I  placed  her  under  the  care  of  the  landlady  of  the 
house  where  we  boarded,  and  promised  to  give  her  an 
answer  to  her  application  in  a  week.  In  the  mean- 
time I  wrote  back  to  her  parents,  stating  the  circum- 
stances of  the  girl's  elopement,  and  begging  them  to 
come  or  send  for  her.  The  day  before  we  left  the 
town,  her  brother  arrived,  and  after  much  persuasion 
on  his  part,  and  a  positive  refusal  to  receive  her  into 
the  company  on  mine,  she  consented  to  return  to  her 
anxious  parents. 

The  night  previous  to  our  departure,  we  were  com- 
plimented with  a  serenade,  by  all  the  musicians  of 
the  place. 

My  brother  and  myself  were  in  the  habit  of  play- 
ing off  all  sorts  of  jokes — at  the  expense  of  whoever 
happened  to  come  in  our  way,  and  occasionally  on 
each  other.  We  left  Pulaski  on  a  Sunday  morning. 
The  ladies  were  provided  with  a  carriage,  while  Lern 
and  myself  rode  on  horseback.  The  carriage  started 
early,  and  was  many  miles  on  the  road  before  we  left 
the  hotel,  where  I  was  detained  an  hour  or  two  in 
settling  up  the  bill,  and  closing  the  business  of  the 
little  season.     Lem  managed  to  slip  off  a  few  minutes 


SECOND    SEASON    IN    WEST    TENNESSEE.  63 

before  me,  promising  to  wait  my  coming  up  a  couple 
of  miles  from  the  town.  He  did  wait  for  me.  As  I 
was  descending  into  one  of  the  beautiful  vallies  of 
that  region,  I  saw  before  me  a  little  army  of  negroes, 
some  on  horseback  and  others  on  foot,  drawn  up 
acrosB  the  road,  as  if  to  interrupt  my  progress.  I 
paid  but  little  attention  to  this,  as  I  knew  the  slaves 
were  mostly  at  liberty  on  Sundays,  and  I  supposed 
they  had  a  gathering  for  some  frolic  of  their  own. 
The  only  thing  that  puzzled  me  was  the  fact  that 
there  was  my  brother,  riding  up  and  down,  marshal- 
ing the  negroes,  addressing  them  earnestly,  and  fre- 
quently pointing  towards  me  as  I  descended  the  hill. 
I  was  not  left  long  in  doubt  as  to  their  intentions; 
for  when  I  had  arrived  within  about  ten  yards  of  the 
crowd,  my  brother  called  out  to  me,  at  the  top  of  his 
voice — "  I  charge  you,  in  the  name  of  General  Jack- 
son and  the  State  of  Tennessee,  to  surrender !"  To 
carry  on  the  joke  which  I  supposed  he  was  playing 
on  the  negroes,  I  answered — "  I  will  not  surrender 
with  life."  Upon  receiving  this  answer,  he  instantly 
turned  to  the  crowd,  and  addressing  it  in  a  very  ear- 
nest manner,  said — "  This  is  the  murderer  of  my  bro- 
ther Sol. — seize  him!"  The  negroes  made  a  rush 
towards  me,  and  urged  on  by  my  mischievous  brother, 
attempted  to  seize  my  bridle  rein.  Finding  there 
was  no  escape  but  in  llight,  I  put  spurs  to  my  horse, 
and  upsetting  some  of  the  foremost  of  the  gang,  made 
my  way  through  the  crowd,  and  set  off  at  full  speed 
towards  Iluntsville.  I  was  closely  followed  by  my 
brother,  and  the  black  crowd,  several  miles,  the  hue 
and  cry  bringing  out  fresh  forces  from  every  planta- 
tion we  passed.    By  hard  riding  I  at  length  distanced 


64  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

my  pursuers,  all  but  Lem,  who  of  course  zealously 
pursued  the  supposed  murderer  of  his  brother,  until 
the  negroes  were  left  far  behind.  We  then  enjoyed 
a  most  hearty  laugh — but  both  of  us  resolved  to  leave 
off  such  practical  jokes  against  each  other,  lest  we 
might  some  day  raise  a  storm  we  could  not  quell, 
which  was  nearly  the  case  in  the  present  instance. 


CHAPTER  XL 

MANAGERIAL   COUP   D'ETAT. 

Last  visit  to  Huntsville  and  Tuscaloosa — The  colored  property- 
man — Candidates  for  the  stage—.  Coup  d'etat — Adjournment  of 
a  Night  Session — A  good  benefit. 

At  Huntsville  we  made  a  season  of  four  weeks, 
and  our  receipts  averaged  only  $60  per  night.  This 
■was  my  last  professional  visit  to  this  thriving  city. 
The  drama  may  flourish  here  at  some  distant  day  ; 
but  it  will  be  when  religious  meetings  and  faro  banks 
shall  have  lost  their  attractions. 

A  journey  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles  brought 
us  to  Tuscaloosa,  where  the  state  legislature  was 
in  session,  and  where  we  opened  on  the  19th  of  No- 
vember, 1831,  with  the  "  Soldier's  Daughter,"  and 
the  "  Two  Gregories." 

On  the  second  night  we  performed  "Pizarro,"  my 
brother  acting  the  part  of  Holla.  In  the  last  act, 
after  seizing  the  child,  and  as  he  was  rushing  up 
towards  the  bridge,  he  observed  a  tall  negro  holding 
a  teacup  full  of  blood,  (rose  pink,)  which  was  wanted 
almost  immediately  on  the  other  side  of  the  stage. 
As  he  passed,  he  said  to  the  negro — "Here,  boy, 
carry  that  blood  round  to  me  on  the  other  side — I 
want  it  the  moment  I  cross  the  bridge."  Away 
dashed  Rolla,  bearing  the  child  aloft,  amidst  a  volley 
of  Spanish  musketry  ;  and  turning  to  cut  away  the 
bridge  with  his  sword,  what  was  his  horror  to  see  the 
tall  negro  walk  deliberately  upon  the  stage,  between 

6  (65) 


66  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

the  "  waters,"  and  in  full  sight  of  the  audience,  hold- 
ing the  cup  in  one  hand  and  stirring  up  the  contents 
with  the  forefinger  of  the  other,  and  hear  him  ex- 
claim— "  Heah,  master  Smith — here's  your  blood  !" 
I  ordered  the  drop  to  be  lowered  immediately,  to  shut 
in  the  ludicrous  scene. 

While  in  Tuscaloosa,  I  received  the  following  appli- 
cations. They  will  serve  as  a  specimen  of  the  hun- 
dreds received  in  the  course  of  a  year  : 

"  To  the  theatre  at  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama.  The  postmaster  will 
please  present  this  to  some  of  the  performers  at  the  theatre. 

"  Gentlemen — I  would  claim  your  attention  for  a  few  minutes  on 
a  subject  which  I  feel  deeply  interested  in.  I  am  now  a  clerk  in 
the  small  village  of  Moulton,  Lawrence  county,  Alabama.  I  have 
been  to  several  theatres,  and  have  read  many  of  Shakspeare's 
plays,  which  convince  me  at  once  that  I  was  destined  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  be  a  performer  on  the  stage  your  company  as  I 
have  been  informed  is  the  most  selebrated  in  the  State  for  its 
order  and  intelligence.  My  family  are  respectable  and. wealthy 
they  do  not  live  near  this  place  and  I  have  always  wished  to 
travel  or  end  my  days  on  the  stage.  It  is  probable  that  you  may 
want  a  young  man  who  would  feel  himself  under  many  obligations 
to  be  one  of  your  company  and  as  it  is  essential  to  performers  to 
be  a  good  size  &c  mine  is  as  follows  I  am  common  size  weigh 
130  or  140  pound  well  proportioned  18  years  of  age  and  if  you 
think  I  will  suit  you  please  let  me  know  and  also  the  terms  on 
which  you  would  be  willing  to  receive  me  by  so  doing  you  will 
confer  a  favor  on  one  who  can  properly  appreciate  your  kindness 
with  much  respect  I  am  your  friend  Alex  Dupont." 

The  other  is  dated  December  17,  1831,  and  comes 
from  I  know  not  where. 

"  To  Mr.  Solomon  Smith,  Esqr. 

"  Dear  sur  I  have  discovered  since  you  was  here  at  this  place, 
and  performd  at  the  Bell  Tavern  in  Selma  that  Miss  Sarah 
Robeson,  was  verry  ankshious  to  jine  you  as  an  Acktriss  and  I  have 


MANAGERIAL    COUP   D'ETAT.  67 


every  rezun  to  bleve  that  she  wood  make  a  furst-rait  one,  and  iff 
you  stand  in  kneed  of  sich  a  pursen  I  have  no  dout  butt  you  could 
git  her  on  aplekashun.  She  wood  willingly  have  gon  with  you 
when  you  was  here  but  she  was  a  little  two  delikit  to  make  her 
whish  uown  to  you  without  hawing  sum  solissitashun  and  cons- 
kuently  she  made  her  intenshuns  nown  to  me,  so  that  threw  me 
they  mite  be  made  nown  to  you  and  iff  you  will  enquier  in  Selma 
and  see  the  girl  I  have  no  dout  butt  you  wood  doo  her  a  favur.  I 
rite  this  at  her  rekuest.     Ures  and  so  fourth." 

[Signature  omitted.] 

Towards  the  close  of  the  season  the  night  sessions 
of  the  legislature  interfered  considerably  with  the 
interests  of  the  theatre, — so  much  so,  indeed,  that 
whenever  a  night  session  was  held  our  hall  was  nearly- 
deserted. 

My  benefit  was  announced  for  the  closing  night  of 
the  dramatic  season,  and  I  did  hope  that  on  this  par- 
ticular occasion  a  night  session  of  the  legislature 
would  be  dispensed  with,  as  many  influential  members 
of  both  houses  had  assured  me  they  would  do  all  in 
their  power  to  make  my  benefit  a  good  one. 

The  election  of  bank  directors,  by  joint  ballot,  had 
been  postponed  from  day  to  day  for  nearly  a  week — 
one  house  resolving  on  meeting  the  other  on  such  a 
day,  and  the  other  amending  the  resolution,  by  pro- 
posing another,  and  so  on  ;  until  the  very  day  my 
benefit  was  announced  to  take  place  at  night.  Just 
as  the  house  was  about  to  adjourn,  in  the  afternoon, 
the  resolution  of  the  senate  appointing  that  very  day 
for  the  election  of  directors,  was  amended  by  substi- 
tuting "at  night,"  and  it  was  generally  understood  by 
senators,  representatives,  and  citizens,  that  the 
senate  would  meet  and  concur  in  the  amendment  of 
the    house,    and    that    immediately   thereupon    tho 


68  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 


senate  would  proceed  to  the  hall  of  the  house  of 
representatives,  and  the  election  would  be  pro- 
ceeded with.  No  one  unacquainted  with  Alabama 
politics,  can  form  the  least  idea  of  the  absorbing 
interest  created  by  these  elections,  by  the  legislature 
in  joint  session.  Everything  else  is  forgotten — the 
galleries  are  crowded  with  spectators ;  the  whole 
town  turns  out  en  masse,  as  though  the  aifair  could 
not  be  gotten  through  with  without  their  general  and 
particular  attention.  As  for  myself,  I  saw  at  a 
glance  that  "  it  was  all  up  with  me,"  unless  I  could, 
by  a  bold  and  successful  coup  d'etat,  upset  the  whole 
arrangement  of  the  "  collected  wisdom"  of  the  Com- 
monwealth. 

"  Here  goes,"  said  I  to  my  brother,  as  I  sallied 
out  after  a  late  and  hasty  dinner — "Nothing  like 
trying  !  Go  to  the  theatre  and  have  everything 
ready  for  a  punctual  beginning." 

"All  right,"  answered  Lem. — "111  have  every- 
thing ready,  you  may  depend  on  that;  but  I  fear  we 
shall  have  to  play  to  empty  benches." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  I  replied  ; 

"  If  I  fail  not  in  my  deep  intent, 

we  shall  play  the  '  Hypocrite'  to  a  good  house  yet." 
So  saying,  I  departed  on  my  electioneering  mission. 
During  two  seasons  in  Tuscaloosa,  it  may  be  sup- 
posed I  had  made  many  friends,  both  among  the 
members  of  the  legislature  and  the  citizens.  As  I 
hurried  through  the  streets  on  my  present  errand,  I 
met  many  of  the  latter,  who  shook  their  heads  in  a 
peculiarly  sorrowful  and  discouraging  manner,  say- 
ing,  "Ah,  Sol.,  old  fellow,  your  benefit  to-night — 


MANAGERIAL    COUP    D'ETAT.  69 

meant  to  attend — but  this  election — must  go  and  see 
that — very  sorry,"  and  words  of  like  import.  All 
seemed  to  ajxree  in  one  thins — there  ivould  be  no- 
body  at  the  theatre,  and  I  had  better  postpone  ;  but 
I  had  no  idea  of  giving  it  up  so,  as  I  had  contracted 
with  a  boat  which  was  to  leave  the  next  morning,  to 
take  the  company  to  Mobile.  "  I'll  have  a  full  house 
yet,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
state  house,  where  the  members  and  spectators  were 
already  beginning  to  assemble  in  large  numbers.  I 
stationed  myself  in  the  lobby  of  the  senate  chamber, 
where  I  soon  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking  with 
Judge  Perry,  an  influential  member  of  the  senate, 
who  had  frequently  professed  himself  my  friend,  and 
willing  to  serve  me  if  in  his  power. 

"Judge,"  said  I,  hastily  seizing  him  by  one  of  his 
coat  buttons,  "  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  do  me 
an  essential  service." 

"  Glad  of  it,"  answered  the  Judge.  "What  can  I 
do  for  you,  friend  Sol.  ?" 

"  My  benefit  takes  place  to-night,"  said  I — 

"  So  it  does,"  replied  the  Judge — "  I  recollect — 
Hypocrite — Mawworm — ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — wanted  to  be 
there;  but  this  confounded  joint  session — it  will  kill 
your  house — can't  you  postpone  ?" 

"  No — must  start  for  Mobile  to-morrow — -passages 
engaged.  Cant  you  postpone  this  joint  session  ?" 
demanded  I,  looking  him  boldly  in  the  face. 

"  Oh,  no — no  ;  impossible.  It  is  an  understood 
thing — the  election  will  certainly  come  off  to-night — 
no  getting  over  it,"  said  Judge  Perry,  evidently  sorry 
that  he  could  not  oblige  me. 

6* 


70  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

"But,  Judge,"  persisted  I — "the  senate  has  not 
yet  concurred  in  the  amendment  of  the  house." 

"That's  true,"  he  replied — "  hut  it  will  concur — 
mere  matter  of  form — that  will  he  the  first  business  ; 
and  we  then  proceed  to  the  house,  where  the  people 
are  now  assembled  waiting  for  us." 

"  Well,  Judge — you  have  often  expressed  a  wish  to 
serve  me — you  now  have  it  in  your  power." 

"  How  ?" 

"  Thus — vote  against  concurring  in  the  amendment 
of  the  house." 

"  My  dear  fellow — it  will  be  of  no  use  whatever — 
one  vote  against  concurring  cannot  be  of  any  service 
to  you;  the  election  will  certainly  go  on." 

"Nevermind  that — if  you  wish  to  manifest  your 
friendship,  promise  me  that  you  will  vote  in  the  way 
I  wish." 

"  Well,  well,  I  do — you  have  my  promise  for  that," 
were  the  concluding  words  of  the  judge,  as  he  left  me 
to  take  his  seat  in  the  senate  chamber,  "  but  rely  upon 
it  the  election  will  go  on." 

Having  thus  secured  the  judge,  I  turned  my  atten- 
to  another  senator,  who,  under  the  supposition  that 
one  vote  would  make  no  difference  in  the  intended 
action  of  the  senate,  pledged  me  that  he  would  vote 
against  concurring  with  the  house  amendment.  I 
then  attacked  another  senator,  with  the  same  result ; 
and  another,  and  so  on,  until  I  had  the  pledges  of 
thirteen  senators,  each  supposing  he  was  the  only  one 
who  had  promised  me  to  vote  in  the  negative.  / 
had  thus  secured  a  majority,  when  the  President's 
hammer  called  the  senate  to  order. 

"  The  first  business   before  the  senate,  £entleinen," 


MANAGERIAL    COUP    D'ETAT.  71 

Bpoke  the  President,  (Mr.  Pickens,  I  think,)  "  is  the 
amendment  of  the  house  to  the  resolution  appointing 
a  joint  session  for  the  election  of  bank  directors  ;  the 
question  is  on  concurring  with  the  amendment — is  the 
senate  ready  for  the  question  ?  As  many  as  are  in 
favor  of  the  amendment  appointing  this  evening  for 
the  joint  session,  will  signify,  the  same  by  saying 
Aye." 

A  considerable  number  of  "  Ayes"  responded — 
enough,  as  it  was  generally  supposed,  to  carry  the 
question  in  the  affirmative.  As  a  mere  matter  of 
form,  however,  the  President  continued — 

"As  many  as  are  of  a  different  opinion,  will  sig- 
nify the  same  by  saying  No." 

To  the  astonishment  of  every  person  in  the  hall,  a 
considerable  number  of  "Noes"  were  heard.  The 
President  thought  there  was  some  mistake,  (so  well 
was  it  understood  that  the  election  was  to  take  place 
that  night,)  and  required  that  those  who  voted  in  the 
affirmative  should  rise.  Twelve  senators  stood  up, 
who,  after  being  carefully  counted,  were  directed  to 
resume  their  seats.  The  negative  vote  was  then 
called  in  the  same  way,  when  thirteen  members  rose 
to  their  feet,  looking  around  on  each  other  with 
evident  surpise  at  finding  so  numerous  a  vote  in  the 
negative. 

The  President,  after  counting  the  negative  vote 
twice  over,  to  make  sure,  announced  that  the  amend- 
ment was  LOST.  A  motion  to  adjourn,  made  by  my 
friend,  Judge  Perry,  was  now  carried  by  acclamation, 
and  in  less  than  three  minutes  the  house  followed  the 
senate's  example,  and  streams  of   people  were  seen 


72  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 


issuing  from  the    state  house,  chatting  to  each  other, 
and  asking  what  in  the  world  it  all  meant? 

My  benefit  was  a  most  brilliant  one,  and  a  few 
"  extra  licks"  I  threw  into  the  character  of  "  Maw- 
worm,"  told  immensely  with  the  audience,  particu- 
larly with  the  thirteen  non-concurring  senators. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MY   FIRST    SEASON    IN    MOBILE. 

Arrival  in  Mobile — Thadeus  Sanford,  the  Editor — Finn — Out-Door 
Estimates  of  Theatrical  Receipts — Purdy  Brown — Montgomery 
— Contemplated  Invasion  of  Georgia — Selma  ami  Cahawba — 
Disappointment  for  Disappointment — Journey  through  the  Creek 
Nation. 

Next  day,  Jan.  15,  1832,  we  embarked  on  board 
the  "  American,"  Capt.  Hammond,  which  in  three 
days  carried  us  safely  to  Mobile,  a  city  which  I  had 
long  wished  to  visit  professionally. 

The  first  person  I  met  on  landing  was  Thadeus 
Sanford — a  gentleman  whom  I  consider,  after  an 
acquaintance  of  more  than  twenty  years — one  of  the 
very  best  men  I  ever  knew,  and  a  true  friend.  I  am 
glad  to  find  his  political  services  have  at  last  been 
appreciated — President  Pierce  having  appointed  him 
Collector  of  the  Port  of  Mobile. 

A  small  theatre  was  fitted  up  over  a  billiard  room 
in  ltoyal  street,  and  the  first  season  of  my  theatrical 
management  in  Mobile  commenced  on  the  25th  of 
January,  1832,  with  the  comedy  of  the  "  Soldier's 
Daughter"  and  farce  of  the  "  Lying  Valet." 

The  company  consisted  of  Messrs.  L.  Smith,  Pal- 
mer, Pearson,  II.  A.  "Williams,  Carter,  Madden, 
Morton,  Baily,  Davidson,  Trower,  Donaldson  and 
Sol.  Smith ;  Mcsdames  Sol.  Smith,  Carter,  Sizer, 
Williams  and  Miss  Carter. 

(73) 


74 


THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 


Henry  J.  Finn  came  and  played  an  engagement 
of  six  nights,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  Mobilians. 

Mr.  Ned  Raymond  also  performed  a  starring  en- 
gagement, and  made  money.  He  made  his  first 
appearance  on  any  stage  in  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  in 
1825,  in  the  character  (or  characters)  of  the  Actor 
of  All  Work.  His  ambition  was  then  to  become  a 
low  comedian — now  he  aspired  to  tragedy,  and  figured 
in  Virginius  and  Brutus.  A  year  or  two  afterwards, 
in  a  fit  of  mania  potu,  he  committed  suicide  by  throw- 
ing himself  from  one  of  the  wharves  in  Boston. 
Raymond  was  not  his  real  name ;  that  I  withhold  in 
consideration  for  the  feelings  of  his  surviving  rela- 
tions, who  reside  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

This  was  considered  a  most  successful  season,  and 
it  was  moderately  so.  As  it  was  my  first  in  Mobile, 
and  was  the  stepping  stone  to  my  future  operations 
in  that  city,  an  accurate  account  of  the  business  of 
the  season  may  not  be  entirely  without  interest  to 
the  reader : 


First 

Second 

Third 

Fourth 

Fifth 

Sixth 

Seventh 

Eighth 


•week,     Receipts,  (4  nights,) 

(6  nights,) 

it      ii 

(5  nights,) 

u         a 

(6  nights,) 
tt      tt 

(2  nights,) 


Total  receipts  of  the  season,.      .     .     . 

My  expenses  during  the  eight  weeks,  including 
$575  paid  to  stars,  and  without  reckoning 
traveling  expenses  to  and  from  Mobile, 
amounted  to       

Leaving  me  a  profit  of 


$320.00 
G60.00 
820.00 
543.00 
505.00 

1279.00 
764.00 
255.00 

$5,146.00 


5,121.00 
$25.00!!. 


MY   FIRST   SEASON    IN    MOBILE.  75 

If  any  citizen  of  Mobile  had  been  asked  to  give  an 
estimate  of  the  profits  of  the  theatre  that  season,  ten 
thousand  dollars  would  probably  have  been  the  very 
least  sum  thought  of !  And  so  it  is  with  nearly  every 
out-door  estimate  of  the  business  of  theatres.  For 
my  own  part,  I  must  confess  that  the  remembrance 
of  my  first  professional  visit  to  Mobile  causes  none 
but  pleasing  sensations.  The  audiences  were  easily 
pleased,  and  the  actors  exerted  themselves  to  the 
utmost  in  their  several  roles,  in  gratitude  for  the 
leniency  of  the  public. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  season's  operations,  Mr. 
Purdy  Brown,  by  his  agent,  Mr.  James  P.  Baily, 
opened,  in  an  unfinished  state,  and  with  a  very 
meagre  company,  a  new  theatre  in  St.  Emanuel 
street,  and  I  withdrew  my  forces  to  Montgomery — 
deeming  it  better  to  leave  the  field  to  the  invading 
army  than  to  fight  a  battle  in  which  both  parties 
must  inevitably  be  losers. 

A  most  disastrous  season  my  friend  Brown  had  of 
it,  commencing  as  it  did  late  in  February,  and  closing 
in  the  spring  with  a  heavy  loss,  notwithstanding  the 
attempts  to  retrieve  the  fortunes  of  the  day  by  bring- 
ing on  the  field  a  large  force  of  cavalry.  Poor 
Purdy  !  I  have  some  reminiscences  in  store  respect- 
ing him,  which  I  may  or  may  not  put  on  paper  for 
the  amusement  of  the  reader,  lie  is  gone  to  another 
scene  of  action,  where  I  trust  he  is  free  from  the  an- 
noyances of  theatrical  management,  which,  to  say  the 
truth,  he  was  every  way  unfitted  for,  while,  as  a  man- 
ager of  a  circus,  no  one  was  more  capable. 

I  have  not  preserved  the  records  of  our  season  at 
Montgomery  ;  but  it  was  quite  successful,  yielding  a 


76  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


handsome  profit.  It  was  from  this  point  I  made  my 
arrangements  for  the  invasion  of  Georgia,  which  event 
was  to  take  place  in  the  month  of  May  of  this  year. 

But  before  proceeding  through  the  Creek  nation  to 
that  old  and  patriotic  state,  we  were  induced  to  pay 
a  short  visit  to  Selma,  where  we  were  welcomed  by 
the  same  generous  support  ($70  per  night)  which  had 
been  extended  to  my  former  company,  the  year  be- 
fore. 

In  an  unlucky  hour  I  listened  to  the  urgent  solici- 
tations of  several  of  the  most  influential  citizens  of 
Cahawba,  to  give  a  week's  performance  at  that 
ancient  village,  formerly  the  seat  of  government  of 
the  state;  but  the  "lovers  of  the  drama"  were  too 
few  in  number  to  remunerate  us  for  our  trouble,  and 
after  playing  five  nights  to  wretched  business,  the 
steamer  "  Herald"  heaving  in  sight,  I  "  pulled  up 
stakes"  in  double  quick  time,  and  we  embarked,  bag 
and  baggage,  for  Montgomery. 

"  Hallo !  Smith  !"  cried  one  from  the  crowd,  as  the 
last  bell  rang  for  starting ! — "you  are  not  going  to 
leave  us  in  this  way  V 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  answered  I  from  the  hurricane  deck. 
"Your  town  don't  pay  expenses — must  go." 

"But,"  persisted  my  friend  on  the  shore,  "the 
people  have  all  been  holding  back  for  the  last  night. 
They  will  be  greatly  disappointed." 

"  Can't  help  it,"  I  replied — "  they  have  disap- 
pointed me  five  nights — and  must  become  reconciled 
to  my  disappointing  them  once."     And  off  we  went. 

We  made  another  short  season  in  Montgomery, 
and  then,  our  arrangements  for  traveling  being  com- 


MY   FIRST   SEASON    IN    MOBILE.  77 

pleted,  we  wended   our   way  through   the   Creek  na- 
tion. 

I  could  fill  volumes  with  accounts  of  this  and  other 
journeys  through  this  then  uncultivated  country ; 
but  I  spare  the  reader  all  details,  and  carry  him 
straight  through,  barely  stopping  by  the  way  to  say 
that  we  "  put  up"  the  second  night,  on  this  particu- 
lar occasion,  at  the  Black  Warrior's,  where  the 
warrior's  wife  (the  warrior  himself  being  off  on  a 
hunt)  gave  us  rather  "  lenten  fare,"  but  fed  our 
horses  well ;  bad  beds,  well  peopled  with  fleas  and 
bed-bugs  ;  and  made  enormous  charges  for  our  ac- 
commodation. At  Mr.  Elliott's,  twelve  miles  from 
Columbus,  we  fared  much  better,  being  served  with 
an  excellent  supper  of  fish,  which  the  landlord  in- 
formed me  he  caught  in  great  abundance — sometimes 
as  many  as  300  a  night — in  a  trap  ! 

Sunday  morning,  May  20th,  1832,  we  crossed  the 
Chattahoochie  river,  leaving  Alabama  behind  us. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    INDIAN   WAR-DANCE. 

Georgia — Columbus  Theatre  Built  in  Four  Days — Performance  of 
"  Pizarro"  with  real  Indians — Unusual  Ceremonies  in  the  Tem- 
ple of  The  Sun. 

Georgia  !  generous,  hospitable  Georgia !  How 
■well  do  I  remember  my  sensations,  when  first  enter- 
ing upon  your  soil  !  It  was  Sunday,  and  the  streets 
of  Columbus  were  filled  with  gaily  dressed  citizens 
and  Creek  Indians.  The  arrival  of  a  theatrical  com- 
pany created  a  decided  sensation. 

"  When  do  you  open?"  was  the  general  question. 

"Next  Thursday,"  was  the  response. 

"  Where  do  you  open?"  was  the  next  and  most 
natural  inquiry. 

"  In  the  New  Theatre,"  was  the  brief,  but  some- 
what puzzling  reply. 

Havino-  taken  possession  of  apartments  in  the 
Columbus  Hotel,  then  kept  by  Messrs.  Pomeroy  and 
Montague,  I  asked  that  a  message  should  be  sent  to 
the  most  expeditious  contractor  in  the  city.  A  Mr. 
Bates  soon  appeared,  and  in  twenty  minutes  he  had 
my  directions.  On  the  next  Saturday  the  following 
true  paragraph  appeared  in  one  of  the  newspapers  : 

"Expedition.— A  theatre  70  feet  long  by  40  wide,  was  com- 
menced on  Monday  morning  last,  by  our  enterprising  fellow-citizen, 
Mr.  Bates,  and  finished  on  Thursday  afternoon,  in  season  for  the 
reception  of  Mr.  Sol.  Smith's  company  on  that  evening.  A  great 
portion  of  the  timber,  on  Monday  morning,  waved  to  the  breeze  in 

(78) 


THE    INDIAN    WAR-DANCE.  79 


its  native  forest;  fourscore  hours  afterwards,  its  massive  piles 
■were  shaken  by  the  thunder  of  applause  in  the  crowded  assemblage 
of  men." 

Here  began  my  acquaintance — may  I  not  say 
friendship? — with  Mirabeau  B.  Lamar,  Esq.,  after- 
wards President  of  Texas.  He  was  a  candidate  for 
Congress — not  nominated  on  the  ticket  of  either 
party,  but  "  on  his  own  hook" — merely  for  the 
"  excitement"  it  afforded  him.  With  the  same  object 
he  traveled  through  Texas,  fought  at  the  battle  of 
San  Jacinto,  eventually  submitted  his  name  to  the 
people  of  that  redeemed  country,  as  a  candidate  for 
the  highest  office  in  their  gift,  and  was  elected. 

"  Pizarro"  was  one  of  our  most  popular  stock  plays. 
My  brother  Lem's  Holla  was  his  best  tragic  character  ; 
when  dressed  for  the  part  he  looked  every  inch  an 
Indian  chief.  At  Columbus  we  produced  this  tragedy 
with  real  Indians  for  the  Peruvian  army.  The 
effect  was  very  striking,  but  there  were  some  unre- 
hearsed effects  not  set  down  in  the  bills.  I  had  bar- 
gained with  a  chief  for  twenty-four  Creek  Indians,  (to 
furnish  their  own  bows,  arrows  and  tomahawks,)  at 
f>0  cents  each,  and  a  glass  of  whiskey.  Unfortunately 
for  the  entire  success  of  the  performance  the  whiskey 
was  paid,  and  drank,  in  advance,  causing  a  great 
degree  of  exhilaration  among  our  new  supes.  They 
were  ranged  at  the  back  of  the  theatre  building,  in 
an  open  lot,  during  the  performance  of  the  first  act ; 
and  on  the  commcncment  of  the  second,  they  were 
marshaled  into  the  back  door,  and  posted  upon  the 
stage  behind  the  scenes.  The  entrance  of  Rolla  was 
the  signal  for  a  "  shout"  by  the  company,  carpenters, 
and  scene-shifters — the  Indians,  supposing  their  time 


80  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

had  come,  raised  such  a  yell  as  I  am  sure  had  never 
before  been  heard  inside  of  a  theatre.  This  outburst 
being  quelled,  the  scene  between  Alonzo,  Cora  and  the 
Peruvian  chief  was  permitted  to  proceed  to  its  termi- 
nation uninterrupted ;  but  when  the  scene  changed  to 
the  "Temple  of  the  Sun,"  disclosing  the  troops  of 
Rolla,  (his  "  brave  associates,  partners  of  his  toil,  his 
feelings  and  his  fame,")  drawn  up  on  each  side  of  the 
stage  in  battle  array,  the  plaudits  of  the  audience 
were  answered  by  whoops  and  yells  that  might  be, 
and  no  doubt  were  heard  a  mile  off.  Order  beim* 
partially  restored,  Rolla  addressed  his  army,  and  was 
greeted  with  another  series  of  shouts  and  yells,  even 
louder  than  those  which  had  preceded.  Now  came  my 
turn  to  take  part  in  the  unique  performance.  As 
High  Priest  of  the  Sun,  and  followed  by  half  a  dozen 
virgins,  and  as  many  priests,  with  measured  step,  timed 
to  slow  music,  I  emerged  from  behind  the  scenes,  and 
"  with  solemn  march"  perambulated  the  atage,  in 
dumb  show  called  down  a  blessing  on  the  swords  of 
King  Ataliba  and  General  Rolla,  and  in  the  usual 
impressive  style,  looking  up  into  the  front  gallery, 
commenced  the  Invocation  to  the  Sun.  Before  the 
time  for  the  joining  in  of  the  chorus,  1  found  I  was  not 
entirely  alone  in  my  singing.  A  humming  sound,  at 
first  low  and  mournful,  and  rising  gradually  to 
" forte"  greeted  my  ear;  and  when  our  chorus  did 
join  in  the  strain,  it  was  quite  overpowered  by  the 
rising  storm  of  "fortissimo"  sounds  which  were  issu- 
ing from  the  stentorian  lun^s  of  the  savages  :  in  short, 
the  Indians  were  preparing  for  battle,  by  executing, 
in  their  most  approved  style,  the  Creek  War-Song  and 
Dance  !     To  attempt  stopping  them,  we  found  would 


THE    INDIAN   WAR-DANCE.  81 

be  a  vain  task  ;  so  that  after  a  moment  or  two  of  hesita- 
tion, the  virgins  made  a  precipitate  retreat  to  their 
dressing  rooms,  where  they  carefully  locked  themselves 
in.  The  King,  Rolla  and  Orano  stood  their  ground, 
and  were  compelled  to  submit  to  the  new  order  of 
things.  The  Indians  kept  up  their  song  and  war- 
dance  for  full  half  an  hour,  performing  the  most 
extraordinary  feats  ever  exhibited  on  a  stage,  in  their 
excitement  scalping  King  Ataliba,  (taking  off  his  wig,) 
demolishing  the  altar,  and  burning  up  the  Sun !  As 
for  Lcm  and  I,  (Rolla  and  the  High  Priest,)  we  joined 
in  with  them,  and  danced  until  the  perspiration  fairly 
rolled  from  our  bodies  in  large  streams,  the  savages, 
all  the  time,  flourishing  their  tomahawks  and  knives 
around  our  heads,  and  performing  other  little  playful 
antics  not  by  any  means  agreeable  or  desirable.  At 
last,  to  put  an  end  to  a  scene  which  was  becoming 
more  and  more  tiresome  as  it  proceeded,  an  order  was 
given  to  drop  the  curtain.  This  stroke  of  policy  did 
not  stop  the  ceremonies,  which  proceeded  without 
intermission  until  the  savages  had  finished  their  song 
and  dance,  when,  each  receiving  his  promised  half- 
dollar,  they  consented  to  leave  the  house,  and  our  play 
proceeded  without  them.  Next  night  the  same  troupe 
came  to  the  theatre  and  wanted  to  "  assist"  in  the 
performance  of  "Macbeth,"  but  I  most  positively 
declined  their  "  valuable  aid." 


7* 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

GETTING  THROUGH  A  SUMMER. 

Macon,  Milledgeville  and  Athens — Editor  Pemberton — Madison — 
The  fat  Landlord — Magnesia  and  chalk  — Monticello — A  feline 
Auditor — Negro  Prayer — A  thin  Tony  Lumpkin. 

After  a  season  of  two  weeks,  we  made  a  move  for 
Macon,  where  another  temporary  theatre  was  put  up 
in  a  little  less  than  a  week's  time.  Here  we  per- 
formed to  respectable  and  very  discriminating  audi- 
ences for  about  five  weeks,  after  which  we  raised  the 
dramatic  flag  at  the  capital  of  the  state,  Milledge- 
VILLE.  A  theatre  was  erected  here  as  early  as  1817, 
as  I  was  told;  but  at  the  time  we  took  possession  of 
it,  the  famed  Augean  Stable  must  have  been  a  car- 
peted parlor  in  comparison  with  it.  Thirty  barrels  of 
lime  were  used  in  the  cleansing  of  this  temple  of 
Thespis,  and  even  then  it  always  retained  a  rather 
unsavory  odor.  Our  visit  was  hailed  with  delight  by 
the  noble-hearted  Georgians,  and  for  one  week  our 
audiences  were  large  and  fashionable.  It  being  about 
"  commencement  "  time  at  Athens,  we  posted  off  to 
that  classic  village,  where  another  new  theatre — built 
in  three  days — was  prepared  for  our  reception. 

My  brother  Lem  was  not  with  us  here.  He  had 
obtained  leave  of  absence  for  a  brief  period,  to  visit 
Cincinnati,  where  he  performed  a  starring  engagement 
in  a  new  theatre  opened  that  season  by  our  former 
manager,  Mr.  Caldwell.  He  also  performed  a  brief 
engagement  at  Louisville. 
(82) 


GETTING    THROUGH    A    SUMMER.  83 

At  Athens  our  success  was  but  meagre.  The  exer- 
cises of  "  commencement  "  engrossed  the  public  at- 
tention, and  we  closed  our  doors  after  a  season  of  one 
week. 

At  this  place  I  experienced  the  great  pleasure  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  A.  H.  Pemberton,  Esq., 
one  of  the  ablest  editors  of  the  state,  and  author  of 
the  best  Defence  of  the  Drama  which  ever  came  under 
my  notice. 

At  a  small  town  called  Madison,  we  "hung  out 
our  banner"  for  a  week,  and  performed  in  the  ball 
room  of  a  tavern  kept  by  a  Mr.  Campbell,  a  large  fat 
man — "fat  as  butter," — who  fed  and  slept  us  well, 
and  charged  us  accordingly.  Total  receipts  for  the 
week,  $205 !  The  barber  who  shaved  me  in  this 
village,  a  very  black  negro,  had  a  light  mulatto  wife. 
They  had  several  children  of  the  proper  shade  of 
color,  and  one,  the  youngest,  almost  white.  Being 
asked  the  reason  of  the  last  child's  being  so  much 
whiter  than  the  others,  the  barber  very  innocently 
answered  that  it  was  all  owing  to  his  wife  having  fol- 
lowed the  advice  of  a  white  lady  during  her  pregnancy, 
and  taken  a  great  deal  of  magnesia  and  chalk  to  cure 
the  dyspepsia. 

Our  fat  landlord  was  a  very  religious  individual — 
a  great  hand  at  revivals  and  camp  meetings ;  and  it 
was  only  by  dint  of  hard  persuasion  the  town's  people 
could  obtain  his  consent  to  receive  into  his  hall  the 
sinful  actors.  But  it  so  turned  out  that  Mr.  Boniface, 
after  taking  a  few  peeps  behind  the  scenes,  became 
greatly  taken  with  the  plays ;  so  much  so  that  one 
night  he  boldly  walked  into  the  front  among  the 
audience,  and  took  a  conspicuous  seat,  determined  to 


84  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

"  see  it  out."  The  people  welcomed  him  with  a  round 
of  applause  which  he  did  not  take  to  himself,  but  turn- 
ing around,  before  seating  himself,  he  said:  "Oho! 
you  talk  of  my  making  a  noise  at  camp-meetings — I've 
got  you  now — you  make  a  plaguy  deal  more  noise 
here  at  the  show  than  I  ever  did  there."  Another 
"  round  "  greeted  our  fat  landlord,  and  the  curtain 
went  up. 

Our  next  town  was  Monticello,  where  we  per- 
formed in  the  dining-room  of  Mr.  Stovall,  and  occu- 
pied one  of  his  best  parlors  for  a  green  room.  Re- 
ceipts for  the  week,  precisely  the  same  as  at  Madison, 
after  paying  $25  tax,  which  the  commissioners  de- 
manded for  the  privilege  of  leaving  about  $100  dol- 
lars more  in  their  town  than  we  received.  We  had 
here  one  auditor,  a  constant  attendant,  who  evidently 
appreciated  our  performances — a  cat !  Every  night 
she  found  her  way  into  the  theatre,  and  seating  her- 
self immediately  in  front  of  the  footlights,  watched 
and  listened  to  the  performances  from  beginning  to 
end ! 

We  returned  to  Milledgeville  and  performed  two 
weeks,  with  poor  success,  closing  1st  of  September. 

Opened  at  Macon  Monday,  September  3d,  and 
performed  one  week  only  ;  after  which  we  pushed  on 
to  Columbus,  where  we  managed  to  stay  three  weeks, 
the  policy  being  to  pass  the  time  away  until  the 
meeting  of  the  legislature  in  Milledgeville. 

Being  up  and  out  on  a  walk  early  one  morning — 
this  was  at  Macon  —  I  strolled  to  the  Methodist 
church,  where  I  heard  singing.  Stepping  in  and 
taking  a  seat,  I  found  assembled  six  negro  men,  one 
mulatto    girl,  and    two  white  men.     A  lazy  looking 


GETTING    THROUGH    A    SUMMER.  85 


young  fellow,  one  of  the  white  men,  seemed  to  con- 
duct the  affair — asking  his  white  brethren  and  black 
brethren  to  pray  alternately.  I  stayed  to  hear  one 
white  and  one  black  prayer — and  it  is  difficult  to  say 
which  was  better  of  the  two.  The  black  man  prayed 
in  something  like  the  following  words  : 

"0!  most  holy  and  significant  Fader!  thou  spencer  of   ebery 
precious  and  delibex-ate  gift,  look  down  on  your  poor  miserable 
children,  and  bless  us  with  thy  sacred  and  devoted  power,  if  it  be 
thy  will.     0  !  most  holy  Fader,  we  humbly  pray  for  the  instigation 
of  thy  wrath   throughout  dis   deboted   laud—bless   all  who    hab  * 
turned  out  to  dis  praar  meetin'  and  dem  dat  habn't — if  it  be  thy 
will.     May  thy  mercy  and  vengeance  smile  upon  our  white  bred- 
ren,  who  are  prayin'  and  preachin'  for  us  poor  sinners,  and  in  re- 
liance upon  the  precious  blood  of  Jesus  Christ — if  it  be  thy  will. 
0 !   bless  de  poor  heden,  and  laru  dem  to  examine  de  doctrines  of 
thy  Word,  which  is  a  sharp  two-pointed  sword,  goin'  out  of  the 
mouth  of  dy  servants—//*/  be  thy  ivill.     May  de  gospel  spread  like 
de   cholera    thro'  de   earth,  spreading  vastation  and   castigation 
around—?/  it  be  thy  will.     We  pray  thee,  0  holy  Christ,  the  fader 
of  the  'ma'cculate  Virgin  Mary,  to  cleanse  us  ob  our  sins,  and  scrub 
us  with  the  scrubbin'  brush  ob  corruption,  till  we  are  the  sanguine 
dye  of  thy  holy  truth,  and  tho'  our  sins  be  as  wool,  may  dey  be 
made  white   as  scarlet  with   thy  most  precious  lamb,  which  was 
killed  on  mount  Sinai  for  our  sallivation — if  it  be  thy  will.    And  0  ! 
most  holy  Jesus,  send  thy  spirit  upon  us  this  morning,  that  we 
may  sing  thy  praise  and  worship  thee  with  meekness  and  com- 
punctuation  ;  and  when  we  give  up  our  immortal  existence  in  this 
immaculate  world,  wilt  thou  receive  us  to  thy  bosom — if  it  be  thy 
will — when  we  will  gib  all  de  glory  and   honor   and  power   to   our 
holy  medidator  and  Saviour  foreber  and  eber  after — Amen." 

During  our  stay  at  Columbus,  at  the  earnest  solici- 
tations of  a  Mr.  Childers,  he  was  permitted  to  make 
his  "first  appearance  on  any  stage,"  as  Tony  Lump- 
kin, which  he  performed  tolerably  well  for  a  new  be- 
ginner.   His  figure  was  better  fitted  for  Don  Quixotte 


86  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

than  the  character  he  chose  for  his  opening,  being 
very  lean  and  bony ;  but  Tony  Lumpkin  he  had 
studied,  and  Tony  Lumpkin  he  played.  After  the 
performance  he  made  a  regular  application  for  a  situ- 
ation in  the  company.  I  declined  entering  into  the 
proposed  engagement,  and  wrote  him  a  long  letter, 
urging  him  not  to  persist  in  his  determination  to  be- 
come an  actor,  and  advising  him  to  continue  his  stu- 
dies in  the  law.  With  great  reluctance  he  followed 
my  advice,  became  in  time  an  eminent  lawyer  in  Ala- 
bama, and  died  many  years  afterwards  in  Mobile,  of 
which  city  he  was  once  elected  Mayor. 

Returned  to  Macon,  and  performed  a  very  few 
nights  to  very  small  audiences ;  but  remained  a  couple 
of  weeks,  it  being  considered  quite  useless  to  open  in 
Milledgeville  so  early  in  the  season.  Time  hanging 
heavy  on  my  hands,  as  the  saying  is,  I  entered  into  a 
little  "  speculation,"  just  for  amusement,  which  will  be 
spoken  of  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SPECULATION    IN    WHISKERS. 

Conversation  in  a  Broker's  Office — Investment  of  Fifty  Dollars  in  a 
new  article  of  Merchandize — A  good  profit  realized. 

There  lived  in  Macon,  a  dandified  individual,  whom 
we  will  call  Jenks.  This  individual  had  a  tolerably 
favorable  opinion  of  his  personal  appearance.  His 
fingers  were  hooped  with  rings,  and  his  shirt  bosom 
was  decked  with  a  magnificent  breast  pin  ;  coat,  hat, 
vest  and  boots  were  made  exactly  to  fit ;  he  wore  kid 
gloves  of  remarkable  whiteness;  his  hair  was  oiled  and 
dressed  in  the  latest  and  best  style ;  and,  to  complete 
his  killing  appearance,  he  sported  an  enormous  pair 
of  Real  Whiskers!  Of  these  whiskers,  Jenks  was 
as  proud  as  a  young  cat  is  of  her  tail  when  she  first 
discovers  she  has  one. 

I  was  sitting  one  day  in  a  broker's  office,  when 
Jenks  came  in  to  inquire  the  price  of  exchange  on 
New  York.  He  was  invited  to  sit  down,  and  a  cigar 
was  offered  him.  Conversation  turning  on  the  subject 
of  buying  and  selling  stocks,  a  remark  was  made  by 
a  gentleman  present,  that  he  thought  no  person  should 
sell  out  stock  in  such-and-such  a  bank  at  that  time,  as 
it  must  get  better  in  a  few  days. 

"  I  will  sell  anything  I've  got,  if  I  can  make  any- 
thing on  it,"  replied  Jenks. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied-one,  "  not  anything  ;  you  wouldn't 
sell  your  WHISKERS  !" 

A  loud  laugh  followed  this  chance  remark.     Jenks 

(87) 


88  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

immediately  answered  :  "  I  would — but  who  would 
want  them  ?  Any  person  making  the  purchase  would 
lose  money  by  the  operation,  I'm  thinking." 

"Well,"  I  observed,  "I  would  be  willing  to  take 
the  speculation,  if  the  price  could  be  made  reason- 
able." 

"  Oh,  I'll  sell  'em  cheap,"  answered  Jenks,  winking 
at  the  gentlemen  present. 

"  What  do  you  call  cheap  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  I'll  sell  'em  for  fifty  dollars,"  Jenks  answered, 
puffing  forth  a  cloud  of  smoke  across  the  counter,  and 
repeating  the  wink. 

"  Well  that  is  cheap  ;  and  you'll  sell  your  whiskers 
for  fifty  dollars  ?" 

"  I  will." 

"Both  of  them?" 

"Both  of  them." 

"I'll  take  them  I     When  can  I  have  them  ?" 

"Any  time  you  choose  to  call  for  them." 

"  Very  well — they're  mine.  I  think  I  shall  double 
my  money  on  them,  at  least." 

I  took  a  bill  of  sale  as  follows  : 

"  Received  of  Sol.  Smith  Fifty  Dollars  in  full  for  my  crop  of 
whiskers,  to  be  worn,  and  taken  care  of  by  me,  and  delivered  to 
him  when  called  for.  J.  JENKS." 

The  sura  of  fifty  dollars  was  paid,  and  Jenks  left 
the  broker's  office  in  high  glee,  flourishing  five  Central 
Bank  X's,  and  telling  all  his  acquaintances  of  the 
great  bargain  he  had  made  in  the  sale  of  his  whiskers. 

The  broker  and  his  friends  laughed  at  me  for  being 
taken  in  so  nicely.     "  Never  mind,"  said  I,  "  let  those 


SPECULATION   IN   WHISKERS.  89 

laugh  that  win ;  I'll  make  a  profit  out  of  those 
■whiskers,  depend  on  it." 

For  a  week  after  this,  whenever  I  met  Jenks,  he 
asked  me  when  I  intended  to  call  for  my  whiskers  ? 

"  I'll  let  you  know  when  I  want  them,"  was  always 
my  answer.  "  Take  good  care  of  them — oil  them 
occasionally;  I  shall  call  for  them  one  of  these  days." 

A  splendid  ball  was  to  be  given.  I  ascertained 
that  Jenks  was  to  be  one  of  the  managers — he  being  a 
great  ladies'  man,  (on  account  of  his  whiskers  I  sup- 
pose,) and  it  occurred  to  me  that  before  the  ball  took 
place,  I  might  as  well  call  for  my  whiskers. 

One  morning  I  met  Jenks  in  a  barber's  shop.  He 
was  adonizing  before  a  large  mirror,  and  combing  up 
my  whiskers  at  a  devil  of  a  rate. 

"Ah  !  there  you  are,  old  fellow,"  said  he,  speaking 
to  my  reflection  through  the  glass.  "  Come  for  your 
whiskers,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  hurry,"  I  replied,   as  I  sat  down  for  a 

shave. 

"Always  ready,  you  know,"  he  answered,  giving  a 
final  tie  to  his  cravat. 

"  Come  to  think  of  it,"  I  said,  musingly,  as  the 
barber  began  to  put  the  lather  on  my  face,  "  Perhaps 
now  would  be  as  good  a  time  as  another ;  you  may  sit 
down  and  let  the  barber  try  his  hand  at  the  whiskers." 

"  You  couldn't  wait  until  to-morrow,  could  you  ?" 
he  asked,  hesitatingly.  "  There's  a  ball  to-night,  you 
know " 

"  To  be  sure  there  is,  and  I  think  you  ought  to  go 
with  a  clean  face  ;  at  all  events  I  don't  see  any  reason 
■why  you  should  expect  to  wear  my  whiskers  to  that 
ball  ;  so  sit  down." 

8 


90  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

He  rather  sulkily  obeyed,  and  in  a  few  moments  his 
cheeks  were  in  a  perfect  foam  of  lather.  The  barber 
flourished  his  razor,  and  was  about  to  commence  opera- 
tions when  I  suddenly  changed  my  mind. 

"Stop,  Mr.  Barber,"  I  said;  "you  needn't  shave 
off  those  whiskers  just  yet."  So  he  quietly  put  up  his 
razor,  while  Jenks  started  up  from  the  chair  in  some- 
thing very  much  resembling  a  passion. 

"This  is  trifling!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  have 
claimed  your  whiskers — take  them." 

"  I  believe  a  man  has  a  right  to  do  as  he  pleases 
with  his  own  property,"  I  remarked,  and  left  Jenks 
washing  his  face. 

At  dinner  that  day  the  conversation  turned  upon 
the  whisker  aifair.  It  seems  the  whole  town  had  ^ot 
wind  of  it,  and  Jenks  could  not  walk  the  streets  with- 
out the  remark  being  continually  made  by  the  boys — 
"  There  goes  the  man  with  old  Sol.'s  whiskers  /"  And 
they  had  grown  to  an  immense  size,  for  he  dared  not 
trim  them.  In  short  I  became  convinced  Jenks  was 
waiting  very  impatiently  for  me  to  assert  my  rights 
in  the  property.  It  happened  that  several  of  the 
party  were  sitting  opposite  me  at  dinner  Avho  were 
present  when  the  singular  bargain  was  made,  and  they 
all  urged  me  to  take  the  whiskers  that  very  day,  and 
thus  compel  Jenks  to  go  to  the  ball  whiskerless,  or  stay 
at  home.  I  agreed  with  them  it  ivas  about  time  to 
reap  my  crop,  and  promised  that  if  they  would  all 
meet  me  at  the  broker's  shop  where  the  purchase  had 
been  made,  I  would  make  a  call  on  Jenks  that  even- 
ing, after  he  had  dressed  for  the  ball.  All  promised 
to  be  present  at  the  proposed  shaving  operation  in  the 
broker's  office,  and  I  sent  for  Jenks  and  the  barber. 


SPECULATION   IN   WHISKERS.  91 

On  the  appearance  of  Jenks  it  was  evident  he  was 
much  vexed  at  the  sudden  call  upon  him,  and  his  vexa- 
tion was  certainly  not  lessened  when  he  saw  the 
broker's  office  was  filled  to  overflowing  by  spectators 
anxious  to  behold  the  barbarous  proceeding. 

"  Come,  be  in  a  hurry,"  he  said,  as  he  took  a  seat, 
and  leaned  his  head  against  the  counter  for  support, 
"  I  can't  stay  here  long ;  several  ladies  are  waiting 
for  me  to  escort  them  to  the  ball." 

"  True,  very  true — you  are  one  of  the  managers — 
I  recollect.  Mr.  Barber,  don't  detain  the  gentleman 
— go  to  work  at  once." 

The  lathering  was  soon  over,  and  with  about  three 
strokes  of  the  razor,  one  side  of  his  face  was  deprived 
of  its  ornament. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Jenks,  "  push  ahead — there  is 
no  time  to  be  lost — let  the  gentleman  have  his  whiskers 
— he  is  impatient." 

"Not  at  all,"  I  replied  coolly,  "I'm  in  no  sort  of 
a  hurry,  myself — and  now  I  think  of  it,  as  your  time 
must  be  precious  at  this  particular  time,  several  ladies 
being  in  waiting  for  you  to  escort  them  to  the  ball,  I 
believe  I'll  not  take  the  other  whisker  to-night." 

A  loud  laugh  from  the  by-standers,  and  a  glance  in 
the  mirror,  caused  Jenks  to  open  his  eyes  to  the 
ludicrous  appearance  he  cut  with  a  single  whisker,  and 
he  began  to  insist  upon  my  taking  the  whole  of  my 
property !  But  all  wouldn't  do.  I  had  a  right  to 
take  it  when  I  chose ;  /  was  not  obliged  to  take  all  at 
once  ;  and  I  chose  to  take  but  half  at  that  particular 
period — indeed  I  intimated  to  him  very  plainly  that  I 
was  not  going  to  be  a  very  hard  creditor ;  and  that  if 


92  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

he  "behaved  himself,"  perhaps  I  should  never  call  for 
the  balance  of  what  he  owed  me  ! 

When  Jenks  became  convinced  I  was  determined  not 
to  take  the  remaining  whisker,  he  began,  amidst  the 
loudly  expressed  mirth  of  the  crowd,  to  propose  terms 
of  compromise — first  offering  me  ten  dollars,  then 
twenty,  thirty,  forty — fifty  !  to  take  off  the  remaining 
whisker.  I  said  firmly,  "  My  dear  sir,  there  is  no  use 
talking ;  I  insist  on  your  wearing  that  whisker  for  me 
for  a  month  or  two." 

"  What  will  you  take  for  the  whiskers  ?"  he  at 
length  asked.     "  Won't  you  sell  them  back  to  me  ?" 

"  Ah,"  replied  I,  "now  you  begin  to  talk  as  a  busi- 
ness man  should.  Yes,  I  bought  them  on  speculation 
— I'll  sell  them  if  I  can  obtain  a  good  price." 

"  What  is  your  price  ?" 

"  One  hundred  dollars — must  double  my  money." 

"  Nothing  less  ?" 

"Not  a  farthing  less — and  I'm  not  anxious  to  sell 
even  at  that  price." 

"Well,  I'll  take  them,"  he  groaned,  "there's  your 
money,  and  here,  barber,  shave  off  this  d — d  infernal 
whisker  in  less  than  no  time — I  shall  be  late  at  the 
ball." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A   SEASON   IN   MILLEDGEVILLE. 

Mirabeau  B.  Lamar,  Independent  Candidate  for  Congress — The 
'«  Orphan  of  Geneva" — Theatrical  Critique — Last  appearance  of 
Lem.  Smith. 

Near  the  end  of  October  we  opened  the  Milledge- 
VILLE  Theatre  for  the  season,  hoping  great  things 
from  the  fact  that  the  legislature  was  soon  to  meet. 
My  brother  Lem.  rejoined  me  here,  and  the  season 
commenced  auspiciously. 

During  our  journeyings  the  past  summer,  we  were 
accompanied  nearly  the  whole  time  by  Mirabeau  B. 
Lamar,  Esq.,  who  was  a  candidate  for  Congress,  as  I 
have  said,  and  who  received  a  very  large  vote,  but 
was  not  elected,  not  being  on  either  the  Union  or 
State  Rights  ticket.  I  have  never  in  my  life  met  a 
more  gentlemanly  man.  He  is  a  good  speaker — 
rather  too  vehement  in  his  manner,  perhaps  ;  but 
being  well  read,  and  possessing  a  good  face  and  per- 
son, he  enchains  the  attention  of  his  auditors.  He 
was  at  that  time  rather  dyspeptic,  but  seemed  to  en- 
joy life  reasonably.  He  can  appreciate  a  joke  and  a 
good  dinner — has  Shakspeare  at  his  tongue's  end,  and 
can  quote  him  correctly  and  at  pleasure ;  fences  well, 
and  is  otherwise  highly  accomplished.  Finally,  he  is 
a  great  lover  of  the  stage.  I  dedicated  my  "  Appren- 
ticeship"  to   him,*    and    on    his   marriage    in    1851, 

*  See  his  letter  in  reply  at  the  end  of  this  volume. 

8*  (93) 


94  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

(nearly  twenty  years  after  the  events  I  am  noting,) 
he  promised  to  name  his  first  child  after  me — but  un- 
fortunately it  turned  out  to  be  a  girl,  and  the  idea 
of  naming  her  "  Solomon"  was  given  up  at  once. 

During  this  season  we  produced  the  play  of 
"  Therese,"  translated  from  the  French  by  John 
Howard  Payne,  and  I  must  say  I  have  never  to  this 
day  seen  it  played  so  well  as  by  the  "  Georgia  com- 
pany." My  wife  personated  the  part  of  Mariette, 
and  my  brother  that  of  Ganvin.  It  is  not  in  my 
province  to  speak  of  the  talents  of  my  wife  and  bro- 
ther, (now  no  more,)  but  as  they  both  occupied,  while 
living,  a  prominent  place  in  the  dramatie  company 
of  which  I  was  manager,  and  as  many  persons  in 
Georgia  may  yet  live  who  have  seen  them  act,  it  may 
not  be  amiss  to  insert  here  a  brief  extract  from  a 
criticism  published  in  one  of  the  newspapers  of  the 
day,  written  (I  am  permitted  to  say  now,  though  I  did 
not  know  it  at  the  time)  by  Gen.  Lamar : 

"  Mr.  Lem.  Smith  has  the  advantage  of  a  fine  person,  (he  beats 
his  brother  in  that,)  a  good  eye  and  a  flexible  voice,  not  of  the 
greatest  compass,  but  sufficiently  strong  to  be  heard  distinctly. 
He  succeeds  equally  alike  in  comedy  or  tragedy,  aud  extremely 
■well  in  both  ;  conceiving  his  characters  properly,  and  never  over- 
stepping the  modesty  of  nature.  His  powers  we  think  are  consid- 
erable, and  his  genius  versatile.  There  is  much  refinement  in  hia 
manners  when  in  comedy,  and  much  dignity  and  force  in  his  ap- 
pearance in  higher  characters,  such  as  Tell.  We  have  seen  him 
in  a  great  variety  of  parts,  aud  find  it  difficult  to  decide  in  which 
his  success  is  greatest." 

*  *  -:•:-  * 

"  One  we  have  yet  to  name — the  star  of  her  profession — it  would 
be  censurable  not  to  hold  up  to  the  admiration  of  our  readers,  as 
she  has  often  presented  herself  to  her  gratified  audience.  We 
mean  Mrs.  Smith.  It  is  far  from  our  intention  to  enter  into  any 
minute  analysis  of  her  acting — setting  forth    her   peculiarities  : 


A    SEASON    IN    MILLEDGEVILLE.  95 

lauding  what  is  good  and  apologizing  for  what  is  otherwise,  but 
shall  speak  of  her  merit  iu  the  aggregate,  reserving  our  more  de- 
tailed and  definite  criticism  for  some  future  number.  To  say  that 
she  is  a  first-rate  actress  would  be  giving  her  nothing  more  than 
her  due,  but  we  should  probably  not  be  believed,  because  she  had 
not  been  brought  up  at  the  Park  or  at  Drury  Lane.  Stars  we 
have  seen  of  the  first  magnitude  who  have  shone  with  unrivalled 
lustre  upon  both  those  boards,  and  cau  say  that  they  have  afforded 
us  no  greater  pleasure  than  we  have  derived  from  the  perform- 
ances of  Mrs.  Smith.  If  it  be  at  all  true  that  the  merit  of  an 
actress  may  be  justly  estimated  by  the  effect  which  she  produces, 
her  claims  will  be  found  inferior  to  few.  For  we  have  never  yet 
heard  the  first  person  declare  himself  disappointed  or  dis- 
satisfied— we  have  never  seen  one  who  did  not  admit  that  she 
always  had  a  just  conception  of  the  part  she  played — that  she 
entered  deeply  into  the  spirit  and  feelings  of  the  character  she 
represented,  and  that  her  look,  gesture  and  attitude  were  always 
graceful,  natural  and  appropriate  ;  and  if  these,  added  to  other 
qualities  which  she  possesses,  a  melodious  voice  and  eloquent  de- 
livery, do  not  constitute  the  perfection  of  the  histrionic  art,  then 
we  are  at  a  loss  to  know  what  does.  All  these  excellencies  are 
universally  conceded  to  her.  In  what  character  she  succeeds  best 
we  could  never  decide  for  ourselves ;  she  seems  to  be  qualified 
by  her  versatility  equally  for  the  grave  and  the  gay — '  for  farce, 
comedy  and  tragedy.'  We  saw  her  once,  on  a  benefit  night,  in  the 
'Soldier's  Daughter,'  and  concluded  she  appeared  best  in  that 
part ;  but  when  she  subsequently  appeared  in  the  '  Orphan  of 
Geneva,'  we  thought  no  character  became  her  as  '  Therese,'  and 
now  our  present  decision  is  that  her  greatest  efforts  have  been  in 


"While  I  am  about  it,  it  may  be  as  well  to  give  the 
General's  opinion  of  myself — particularly  as  I  think 
it  is  a  tolerably  correct  one  in  the  main.  Here  it  is, 
segregated  from  the  same  article  the  foregoing 
extracts  are  taken  from  : 

"  Now  then  for  '  Old  Sol.'  But  before  entering  upon  the  trial 
of  this  '  head  and  front'  of  the  battalion,  it  may  be  proper  to 
settle  a  preliminary  question  upon  which  his  acquittal  or  condem- 


96  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

nation  chiefly  rests.  The  heart  will  sometimes  laugh  in  defiance 
of  the  sober  decrees  of  the  head ;  and  when  this  is  the  case,  which 
is  in  the  right  ?  Who  has  not  had  his  risibility  irresistibly  ex- 
cited by  a  joke,  which  his  judgment  could  not  sanction  ?  Shall  the 
joke  therefore  be  condemned?  '  That  is  the  question.'  We  answer, 
no.  Now  this  is  exactly  '  Old  Sol.'s  situation.  His  acting  we  cannot 
approve  as  beng  always  in  good  taste,  yet  he  will  extort  the  laugh 
from  us  in  despite  of  our  disapprobation.  Shall  we  therefore  con- 
demn him  ?  We  answer,  no.  Our  objection  to  him  as  an  actor  is, 
that  he  often  lowers  comedy  to  a  farce,  and  brings  farce  to  the 
borders  of  buifoonery.  The  approbation  which  we  have  to  bestow, 
is  that  which  we  have  just  admitted  ;  his  absolute  dominion  over 
our  risible  propensities.  He  never  fails  to  accomplish  the  end  and 
aim  of  all  comic  performance,  that  of  exciting  involuntary  laugh- 
ter and  applause.  This  however  is  not  his  only  merit.  He  pos- 
sesses a  lively  fancy  and  a  good  fund  of  original  wit,  which  enable 
him  to  introduce  many  seasonable  jokes,  acceptable  to  all,  and 
offensive  to  none.  This  practice  it  is  true,  is  liable  to  abuse,  and 
stands  reprobated  by  authority  no  less  than  Shakspeare,  but  with 
all  due  deference  to  the  bard  of  Avon,  we  must  still  adhere  to  our 
infallible  rule,  to  censure  nothing  and  praise  all  that  produces  a 
happy  effect;  by  virtue  of  which  'Old  Sol.'  is  entitled  to  our  high 
commendation  and  a  full  absolution  for  all  faults,  which  we  do 
hereby  freely  award  him." 

On  the  12th  December,  the  tragedy  of  "  Douglass" 
was  performed,  it  being  the  last  appearance  of  my 
brother,  who  personated  the  character  of  Glen- 
alvon. 


tUV^ViLA  —I 


This  brings  my  narrative  up  nearly  to  the  close  of  the 
year  1832 — a  year  rendered  ever  memorable  to  the  writer 
by  the  untimely  death  of  bis  beloved  brother  Lemuel  ; 
that  brother  who  had  participated  in  so  many  of  the 
scenes  heretofore  described,  and  who,  in  the  very  prime 
of  his  manhood,  was  called  upon,  without  a  moment's 
warning,  to  pay  that  great  last  debt  to  Nature,  which  all 
who  yet  live, — owe! 

It  might  naturally  be  expected  that  an  event  so  deeply 
engraven  upon  the  heart  and  memory  of  a  sorrowing 
brother,  should  receive  from  him  more  than  this  passing 
notice  ;  but  as  that  would  necessarily  tend,  by  painfully 
exciting  the  sympathies  of  his  readers,  to  destroy  the 
principal  object  he  has  in  view  in  writing  these  pages, 
viz. :  the  amusement  of  those  who  are  pleased  to  accom- 
pany him  in  his  wanderings,  he  passes  on  to  other,  and, 
to  his  readers,  doubtless  more  agreeable  topics. 


(97) 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


MANAGER    BROWN. 


Profits  of  six  months  business— Purchase  of  Real  Estate— To  Ala- 
bama again— A  year's  profits— Close  of  season  and  disbandment 
of  company — Palmer  and  Lyons  undertake  management — Man- 
ager Brown  as  an  actor — Grand  entree  in  a  comedy — New  busi- 
ness for  Capt.  Procles— The  infernal  fiends  below. 

The  season  in  Milledgeville  was  brought  to  a  close 
on  the  23d  of  December — the  legislature  adjourning 
about  the  same  time.  The  actual  profits  of  the  six 
months  preceding  this  date,  are  set  down  in  a  busi- 
ness memorandum  I  kept  at  the  time,  at  $1500, 
which  sum,  considering  the  labor  performed,  the  jour- 
neys made,  and  wear  and  tear  of  the  constitution, 
cannot  be  considered  over  payment  for  the  services 
of  my  wife  and  myself. 

Macon  was  again  tried,  on  our  way  to  Alabama, 
where  we  received  for  24  nights'  performances,  in  a 
cold  theatre,  $1580,  being  an  average  of  about  $66 
per  night — and  this  was  considered  good  business. 

Passing  on  towards  Montgomery,  our  next  stopping 
place  was  Columbus,  where  we  acted  two  weeks,  to 
an  average  nightly  receipt  of  $56,  closing  on  the  9th 
of  February,  1833. 

I  purchased  in  Columbus  some  real  estate  at  a  cost 
of  about  $2000,  which  raised  on  my  hands,  and  was 
eventually  sold  for  nearly  900  per  cent,  profit. 

On    Saturday,   16th    February,   our  standard   was 
raised  in  Montgomery,  Alabama,  to  a  house  of  $140 
(98) 


MANAGER    BROWN.  99 


The  people  appeared  well  pleased  at  our  return. 
Business  continued  good  here,  and  several  "  stars " 
(so  called)  shone  forth  during  the  season  —  Mrs. 
Knight  and  Mr.  Forbes  among  the  rest.  My  theatri- 
cal year  ended  on  the  22d  March. 

I  subjoin  a  statement  of  the  actual  result  of  this 
year's  "journey-work,"  in  dollars  and  cents,  as  it  ap- 
pears in  my  cash-book  of  that  day  : 

We  must  have  travelled  at  least  5000  miles  during 
the  year.  All  traveling  expenses  were  paid  by  the 
management. 

Total  receipts— 46  weeks— $20,885.  Average  per 
week,  $454 — per  night,  counting  the  actual  number 
of  nights  played,  to  wit :  262  nights,  $79,70.  Profits 
of  the  year,  about  $4000. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lyons  joined  me  at  this  time,  and 
the  season  was  prolonged  a  week,  after  which  the 
theatre  closed,  with  my  benefit,  which  was  very 
largely  attended. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  season,  I  resolved  to 
gratify  a  desire,  long  entertained,  of  visiting  Cincin- 
nati, the  home  of  my  brothers  and  numerous  other 
relations.  The  company  being  disbanded,  Messrs. 
Palmer  and  Lyons,  members  of  the  late  organization, 
proposed  to  rent  the  Georgia  theatres,  and  I  con- 
sented to  give  them  the  use  of  my  wardrobe  and  pro- 
perties, with  the  understanding  that  if  they  were  suc- 
cessful in  their  speculation,  they  should  have  the 
privilege  of  purchasing  my  interest  in  the  circuit  at  a 
given  price;  but  if  unsuccessful,  they  should  return 
the  properties  in  the  ensuing  fall.  The  result  of  this 
attempt  of  Messrs  P.  and  L.  will  appear  hereafter. 
Leaving  the  new  managers  to  push  their  fortunes 


100  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


in  the  south,  I  made  my  way,  with  my  family,  towards 
Cincinnati,  where  we  proposed  to  spend  the  summer  ; 
not,  however,  until  Mrs.  S.  and  myself  had  performed 
a  short  starring  engagement  in  Mobile,  under  the 
management  of  Mr.  Purdy  Brown.  I  could  relate 
hundreds  of  anecdotes  relative  to  manager  Brown, 
but  do  not  feel  much  disposed  that  way.  A  few  lines 
must  comprise  all  I  have  to  say  about  him. 

Mr.  Brown's  knowledge  of  theatrical  matters  was 
extremely  limited ;  consequently,  he  was  liable  to  be 
constantly  imposed  upon  by  the  actors,  who,  as  a 
class,  are  never  backward  in  furthering  a  joke.  Mr. 
B.  appeared  on  the  stage  occasionally,  and  when  he 
did  it  was  generally  his  wish  to  enact  some  important 
character — some  person  of  rank  in  the  drama — it 
being  very  much  against  the  grain  to  appear  as  a 
supernumerary.  Reading  plays  not  being  much  in 
his  way,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  asking  the  actors  what 
characters  they  thought  would  best  suit  him,  and  he 
was  generally  advised  to  study  such  parts  as  Count 
Luneda  in  the  "  Broken  Sword  ;"  Timoleon  in  the 
"Grecian  Daughter  ;"  Beverly's  Uncle,  in  the  "  Game- 
ster," and  others  of  that  sort.  When,  after  a  dili- 
gent search,  poor  Brown  informed  his  friend,  the 
actor  who  had  advised  him,  that  no  such  character 
could  be  found  in  the  flay,  he  was  gravely  informed 
that  he  had  been  searching  in  the  wrong  edition  ! 

Manager  B.  had  an  abiding  faith  in  horses — indeed 
he  had  good  reason  for  his  faith — they  never  deceived 
him  or  played  practical  jokes  upon  him.  Whenever 
he  percieved  that  a  play — be  it  tragedy,  comedy  or 
melo-drama — appeared  to  "  drag  ;"  or  to  speak  more 
intelligibly,  to  "  hang  fire  ;"  or,  to  make  the  expression 


ANAGER    BROWN.  101 

still  more  easily  understood  by  the  general  reader,  "  go 
off  dull," — he  ordered  out  his  -whole  stud  of  horses 
and  circus  riders,  and  sent  them  on  "  to  end  tho 
piece."  Thus  it  is  said,  (I  confess  I  did  not  see  this,) 
that  on  the  occasion  of  the  performance  of  the  "  Sol- 
dier's Daughter,"  he  sent  on  his  circus  troupe,  dressed 
as  Turks  or  Arabs,  who  performed  a  "grand  entree" 
on  the  stage,  driving  the  Widow  Cheerly,  Governor 
Heartall  and  company  down  to  the  footlights,  where 
they  were  obliged  to  stand  for  a  mortal  half  hour  and 
witness  the  cavalry  evolutions,  the  whole  winding  up 
with  a  grand  tableau,  illuminated  by  red  fire  ! 

Mr.  B.,  on  one  occasion,  was  compelled  to  assist 
in  the  performance  of  "  Damon  and  Pythias — the 
company  being  short  in  numbers — and  finding  tho 
character  which  he  chose  (Dyonisius — King  Dyoni- 
sius,)  too  long  for  his  study,  which  was  none  of  the 
best,  he  was  prevailed  on  to  take  that  of  Process, 
which  he  was  told  was  a  sort  of  Captain  in  the  Syra- 
cusan  service.  He  proposed  to  act  the  part  on  horse- 
back ;  but  Webb,  who  was  the  Damon,  dissuaded  him 
from  this,  and  the  worthy  manager  consented  to  do  it 
on  foot.  Some  wag,  to  whom  he  applied  for  advice 
as  to  the  manner  of  acting  the  part,  told  him  that 
Procles  was  a  fierce  and  spirited  warrior,  and  when 
he  was  spoken  to  by  Damon  in  the  streets  of  Syra- 
cuse, and  branded  as  a  traitor,  he  should  seize  the 
Senator  by  the  throat.  At  the  proper  time,  placing 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  supernumerary  soldiers, 
"  high  heaped  with  arms  and  plunder,"  he  rushed 
upon  the  stage,  with  his  shouting  soldiers.  When 
Webb,  as  Damon,  came  to  these  words: 

9 


102  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

"  And  thou, 
Who  standest  foremost  of  these  knaves, 
Stand  back  and  answer  me — what  have  ye  done?" 

Captain  Procles  looked  daggers  at  him,  but  re- 
strained himself  so  far  as  to  wait  for  his  "  cue,"  which 
receiving  at  length  in  these  words  : 

"  Thou  most  contemptible  and  meanest  tool 
That  ever  tyrant  used," 

he  rushed  upon  Damon  like  a  tiger,  seizing  him  by 
the  throat,  and  holding  his  neck  between  his  hands  as 
in  a  vice.  Webb  struggled  and  swore — in  vain ! 
"  Let  me  loose  !  you  are  strangling  me  !"  exclaimed 
the  infuriated  Damon,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "  Of 
course  I  am,"  answered  Procles — "it  is  the  business 
of  the  part !"  And  it  was  not  until  Pythias  interfered 
in  his  behalf,  that  he  could  be  persuaded  to  loosen  his 
hold. 

On  the  last  night  of  our  engagement  I  enacted 
Scaramouch,  in  the  pantomime  of  "  Don  Juan."  In 
the  last  scene,  the  amorous  Don  is  seized  by  demons 
and  cast  into  the  infernal  regions,  as  the  bills  have  it, 
through  a  trap  door.  At  rehearsal,  I  told  the  man- 
ager that  about  twelve  demons  would  be  required  at 
the  wings  to  seize  Don  Juan,  and  cast  him  down  the 
trap.  "And,"  (I  added  in  a  joke,)  "you  must  be 
ready  under  the  stage,  at  the  head  of  a  troupe  of 
devils  with  pitchforks,  to  torment  him  until  his  nu- 
merous sins  are  burnt  and  purged  away,  as  Shak- 
speare  says."  As  I  was  leaving  the  theatre,  the 
manager  followed  me  to  the  back  door,  and  asked  me 
to  repeat  some  direction   I  had  given  relative  to  the 


MANAGER    BROWN.  103 


banquet  in  the  pantomine.  He  afterwards  said  some- 
thing which  induced  me  to  think  he  wished  to  carry 
on  the  joke  about  the  demons  I  had  spoken  of,  to  be 
stationed  under  the  stage. 

"How  many  demons  did  you  say,  Mr.  Smith?"  he 
asked. 

"  A  dozen  will  do,"  I  replied,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  a  dozen  on  the  stage,  I  know,  but  how  many 
of  those  tormenting  fellows  underneath  ?" 

"  Oh,"  I  answered,  "  as  many  as  you  like ;  the 
more  the  better ;  and  be  sure  you  have  plenty  of  red 
fire." 

"Never  fear  that,"  he  replied  as  he  turned  to  go 
away. 

Scaramouch  is  not  a  very  easy  character  to  perform, 
particularly  when  attempted  by  one  like  myself,  un- 
used to  gymnastic  feats  ;  so  that  when  I  had  gone 
through  the  dancing,  the  shipwreck,  the  riding  on  a 
dolphin,  the  eating  of  maccaroni,  the  frights  at  seeing 
the  ghost  on  horseback,  and  other  little  incidental 
exercises,  and  had  bid  good-bye  to  my  master,  the  Don, 
in  the  graveyard,  it  may  be  supposed  that  I  lost  no 
time,  "  distilled  with  fear"  and  perspiration,  as  I  was, 
in  hastening  to  my  dressing-room,  with  the  view  of 
disrobing  as  quickly  as  circumstances  would  permit. 
I  had  in  part  accomplished  this,  and  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  rubbing  the  upper  part  of  my  perspiring 
body  with  a  coarse  towel,  when  the  call  boy  knocked 
violently  at  the  door,  and  begged  mc  to  step  down  to 
the  stage,  as  the  manager  wished  to  see  me  particu- 
larly. Throwing  a  cloak  about  me,  I  hastened  to  the 
late  scene  of  action,  nearly  suffocated  with  the  smoke 
from  the  red  fire,  which  was  ascending  in  think  volumes, 


104  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

and  found  on  looking  down  the  trap  that  my  friend 
Brown  was  there  with  thirty  or  forty  fiends,  all 
dressed  in  red  flannel,  and  armed  with  pitchforks, 
waiting  for  the  descent  of  Don  Juan  I  It  seems  that 
in  the  concluding  scene  of  the  pantomine,  the  per- 
former who  enacted  the  part  of  Don  Juan,  (Mr. 
Heyl,)  finding  a  thick  column  of  "  sulphurous  and  tor- 
menting flames,"  ascending  through  the  trap  door, 
would  not  consent  to  be  "  plunged  in,"  as  required  by 
the  stage  direction  ;  but  on  the  contrary  had  burst 
from  the  supernumerary  fiends  and  escaped  to  Ins 
dressing  room.  The  curtain  was  lowered,  and  the 
piece  was  considered  ended,  by  all  but  the  worthy 
manager,  who  was  in  the  regions  below,  with  his  army 
of  fiends,  waiting  for  his  victim.  It  was  some  time 
before  he  could  be  persuaded  to  abandon  his  post,  and 
not  until  he  had  declared  his  determination  to  dis- 
charge the  contumacious  actor  who  had  refused  to 
take  the  "  fatal  plunge." 

Mr.  Edwin  Forrest  passed  through  Mobile  while  we 
were  there,  on  his  way  to  New  Orleans.  Ten  years 
had  elapsed  since  we  had  parted  in  Lexington,  Ky., 
he  to  join  Mr.  Caldwell  at  the  south — I  to  commence 
my  managerial  career  in  Cincinnati. 

We  were  succeeded  by  Mr.  James  Wallack — the 
Wallack — the  very  best  Iago  I  ever  saw — I  cannot 
pay  him  a  higher  compliment.  I  witnessed  his  per- 
formance of  Rolla  and  Dick  Dashall,  considered  by 
the  public  as  his  best  characters.  Ah  !  what  an  actor 
he  was — and  is  !  To  see  bis  personation  of  Don  Caesar 
de  Bazan  is  worth  a  pilgrimage  to  New  York. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE   CHOLERA   IN    1833. 

New  Orleans— The  Gladiator— Cinderella— Journey  up  the  Missis- 
sippi—Cholera and  the  game  of  brag— The  little  Frenchman— A 
Negro  lost  and  won  at  Faro. 

On  board  the  steamer  "Ohio,"  Capt.  Haggerty,  I 
embarked  with  my  family  at  Mobile,  on  the  11th  of 
May,  1833,  bound  for  Cincinnati,  by  way  of  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico  and  Mississippi  river.  Arrived  at  New 
Orleans  the  next  day  without  accident. 

We  remained  in  New  Orleans  two  days  and  nights, 
and    had    the    opportunity,    which    we    improved    of 
course,  of  witnessing  the  performance  of  the  "  Gladi- 
ator," (for  Forrest's  benefit)  and  "  Cinderella,"  on  the 
first    appearance   of   Madame    Brichta.      Mr.    J.   M. 
Field,  a  young  actor  of  considerable  promise,  enacted 
Phasarius,  the  secondary  part  in  the  "  Gladiator,"  and 
the  next  night  appeared  as  the  Prince  in  "  Cinderella." 
The  production  of  "  Cinderella"  at  New   Orleans 
formed  an  era  in  theatrical  annals.     Though  a  hodge- 
podge, (made  up   of    Rossini's   original  work   of   the 
same  name,  and  other  productions  of  that  composer, 
"  William  Tell"  being  largely  drawn  upon,)  it  was  the 
first    attempt  at  the    Grand   Opera   in  the   English 
language  at  the  south.     All    previous  attempts   hud 
been   confined  to  what  is  termed  the  comic  opera — 
the  "Barber   of   Seville,"  (an    English    adaptation,) 
"  Marriage    of    Figarro,"     "  Love    in    a    Village," 
"  Devil's  Bridge,"  &c.     The  cast  of  "  Cinderella,"  as 

9*  (105) 


106  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

originally  produced  in  New  Orleans  this  season,  was 
as  follows : 

Prince,  ...  Mr.  Field. 

Dandini,  -  Mr.  Caldwell. 

Baron  Pompolino,  -  -  Mr.  Thome. 

Alidoro,  ...  Mr.  Iforgethisname. 

Pedro,  -  Mr.  Russell. 

Cinderella,  -  Miss  Jane  Placide. 

Clorinda,  ...  Mrs.  Russell. 

Thisbe,  ...  Mrs.  Rowe. 

Fairy  Queen,  -  -  -  Miss  Nelson. 

Thus  cast,  and  with  the  advantage  of  beautiful 
scenery  and  appoinments,  its  success  was  very  great. 

This  year  Mr.  Caldwell  sold  out  his  managerial 
interests  to  Messrs.  Russell  and  Rowe,  and  turned  his 
attention  exclusively  to  his  gas  speculation. 

While  in  New  Orleans  I  found  out  my  quondam 
friend  N.  M.  Ludlow,  who  was  keeping  a  clothing 
store,  and  doing  tolerably  well.  This  was  a  new 
"line  of  business"  to  him,  and  he  soon  dropped  it. 

On  the  16th,  we  re-embarked  on  the  "  Ohio,"  and 
oft'  we  steered  for  Cincinnati.  It  is  not  my  purpose 
to  attempt  a  description  of  the  scenes  witnessed  on 
this  boat — the  Cholera  raging  !  Nevertheless  I  Avill 
briefly  notice  a  few  incidents.  After  supper,  the 
second  day  out,  I  counted  eight  card  tables,  sur- 
rounded by  persons  playing  the  game  of  "  brag !" 
At  the  same  time  persons  were  scattered  around  the 
floor,  and  in  the  state-rooms,  groaning,  complaining, 
beseeching  for  assistance — dying  with  the  cholera ! 
In  one  instance  I  saw  a  man  fall  from  his  chair  in  a  fit, 
clenching  his  cards  in  his  hands,  and  die  in  a  few 
minutes  !     Another  fell  back  on  the  floor   from  the 


CHOLERA    IN   1833.  107 

card  table,  was  taken  up  senseless,  and  carried  to  his 
state-room,  where  he  lingered  until  the  next  day,  and 
then  died,  having  in  the  interim  made  his  will,  dispos« 
ing  of  a  very  large  property  in  Virginia.  This  last 
one  I  became  slightly  acquainted  with,  and  ren- 
dered him  all  the  assistance  I  could.  Just  before  he 
died  we  put  him  into  a  warm  bath,  which  seemed  to 
relieve  him  very  much.  When  we  laid  him  on  hia 
mattrass,  he  looked  up  in  my  face  and  asked — 

"  What  is  your  real  opinion,  Mr.  Smith  ?  Will  I 
get  over  this  ?" 

I  answered,  "upon  my  word,  I  think  you  will  — 
you  are  evidently  much  better."  This  was  my  most 
candid  opinion. 

"I  am  glad — I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  he 
responded  faintly,  looking  up  into  my  face  with  a 
smile  ;  and  with  that  smile  on  his  face  he  almost  in- 
stantly ceased  breathing  ! 

In  nearly  every  voyage  I  make — especially  if  there 
be  sickness  among  the  passengers — I  get  the  name  of 
Doctor,  probably  from  the  fact  that  I  am  always  willing 
to  lend  a  hand  to  assist  the  sick.  It  was  so  in  this 
case.  Capt.  Haggerty,  the  clerk,  and  myself,  seemed 
to  be  the  only  persons  on  board  who  knew  anything 
about  the  medicine  chest,  and  the  quantities  proper 
for  a  dose  of  the  various  articles  therein  contained. 
A  little  Frenchman,  as  healthy  a  man  as  there  waa 
on  board  of  the  boat,  took  it  into  his  head  that  he  was 
attacked  by  cholera,  and  sent  for  me  to  attend  to  his 
case. 

"  Oh,  Docteur — Monsieur  Docteur  !"  he  exclaimed, 
"  I  am  vaire  sick — much  malade  !    My  stomach  vaire 


108  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

much  ache  !    Do  sometings  for  ine,  Docteur,  do  some- 
tings  very  much  quick,  for  I  sal  die — oh  !" 

I  found  his  pulse  regular,  and  became  convinced  he 
was  in  excellent  health.  I  told  him  so,  and  for  a  time 
he  appeared  reassured  ;  but  presently  he  sent  for  me 
again,  and  begged  me  in  the  most  piteous  tones  to  do 
"  sometings  "  for  him.  Satisfied  that  nothing  ailed 
the  man  but  fright,  I  went  to  the  medicine  chest  and 
made  him  up  a  pill  of  gum  arabic,  which  I  requested 
him  to  swallow,  assuring  him  that  he  would  soon  be 
better.  For  about  two  hours  this  seemed  to  quiet  my 
little  Frenchman,  and  I  was  at  liberty  to  attend  to 
other  cases.  When  next  called  to  Monsieur,  he  said 
he  felt  a  little  better,  but  "  weak  from  the  operation 
of  de  medicin."' 

"  The  pill  has  operated,  then  ?"  I  remarked. 

"  Oui,  oui — operate  very  much — make  me  sleep — 
ah  ha!  Un  opiate,  ha?" 

I  let  him  think  it  was  an  opiate,  and  telling  him  to 
keep  quiet  during  the  night,  left  him.  The  following 
morning  my  patient  seemed  much  better,  and  partook 
of  a  hearty  breakfast  and  a  large  portion  of  a  bottle 
of  claret.  Card  playing  continued  during  the  day, 
and  Monsieur  took  a  hand,  losing  considerable  money. 
He  retired  early,  and  I  was  in  hopes  he  had  entirely 
recovered  from  his  fright,  and  that  I  should  not  be 
called  on  to  attend  him  any  more;  but  I  was  mis- 
taken. He  was  not  at  supper,  and  hearing  a  groan- 
ing in  his  state-roorn  as  I  passed,  I  opened  the  door 
and  looked  in.  There  lay  my  little  Frenchman, 
writhing  with  pain,  and  evidently  experiencing  the 
effects  of  the  "  premonitory  symptoms,"  pretty 
strongly.  » 


THE    CHOLERA    IN    1833.  109 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  Docteur,"  he  said,  as  he  saw  me 
coming  in — "  I  am  vaire  glad  you  come — I  have  got 
him  now  certianement — you  must  give  me  some  leetle 
peel  encore — I  sal  die  if  you  don't  give  me  sometings 
vaire  quick  !" 

Poor  fellow !  he  had  the  dreaded  disease  beyond  a 
doubt — the  symptoms  were  unmistakable.  Feeling 
his  pulse,  and  saying  a  few  encouraging  words,  I  left 
him  to  make  up  a  dose  a  little  more  efficient  than 
gum  arahic — for  I  was  convinced  he  had  frightened 
himself  into  the  cholera.  While  preparing  the  medi- 
cine, a  crash  was  heard  that  seemed  to  shake  the  boat 
to  its  very  centre  !  At  first  all  supposed  an  explosion 
had  taken  place.  Confusion  reigned  for  a  few  min- 
utes, the  passengers  rushing  hither  and  thither  in  "wild 
disorder."  My  first  care,  of  course,  was  for  my  wife 
and  children — the  latter  being  at  the  time  eating  their 
supper  at  the  second  table.  The  crash  was  caused  by 
the  breaking  of  the  fly  wheel,  the  fragments  of  which 
were  thrown  with  great  force  through  the  cabin  floor 
and  hurricane  roof,  scattering  the  dishes  on  the  sup- 
per table,  as  well  as  pieces  of  the  table  itself  in  every 
direction.  It  providentially  happened  that  no  one 
was  hurt.  My  boys  I  found  seated  on  the  brink  of 
the  chasm  where  the  table  had  been.  The  oldest  boy, 
then  five  years  of  age,  was  holding  an  empty  saucer 
in  his  hand ;  and  when  he  saw  me  he  exclaimed — 
"Pa,  look  here — they've  spilt  all  my  coffee  !" 

But  to  return  to  my  patient,  I  found  him  busily  en- 
gaged dressing  himself. 

"By  gar,  Monsieur  Docteur,"  said  he — "I  sal  not 
stay  on  dis  boat  any  longer;  such  <l;im  crashing  I 
never  sal  hear  again  no  more  nevaire;  did  you  hear 


110  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


him  ?     It  was  like  heaven  and  earth  shall  be  coming 
togedder  !" 

"  It  was  a  tremendous  crash,"  I  replied.  "  The 
fly  weeel  is  broken — cannot  be  mended  short  of  Pitts- 
burgh— the  passengers  are  most  of  them  preparing  to 
leave." 

"Leave  !  leave  !  I  believe  you,  Monsieur  Docteur," 
he  said,  as  he  proceeded  with  his  toilet ;  "  I  sal  no 
stay  one  moment,  by  gar ;  I  sal  be  off  in  de  first  boat, 
ha  !  I  sal  not  stay  in  dis  d — n  cholera  boat  any  more 
at  all." 

A  boat  bound  up  the  river  was  by  this  time  along- 
side, and  nearly  all  were  making  their  arrangements 
to  go  on  her. 

"  How  do  you  feel  now,  monsieur  ?"  I  at  length  in- 
quired, when  he  had  finished  dressing.  "  Here  is  the 
medicine  I  have  prepared  for  you,  will  you  take  it '(" 

"Take  le  medicin  ?"  he  answered — "no,  by  gar, 
I  want  no  medicin — I  am  well — tres  Men — never  sal 
be  better  in  my  life." 

"  What,  not  got  the  cholera?"  I  enquired. 

"  No,  by  damn — dat  confounded  crash  knock  de 
cholera  out  of  me,  tout  de  suite!" 

And  so  it  had,  fright  had  brought  it  on,  and  fright 
had  sent  it  off.  I  met  him  afterwards  in  Cincinnati. 
He  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  thanked  me 
for  my  doctorly  care  ;  but  declared  that  if  it  had  not 
been  for  that  "grand  crash,"  he  should  have  been  a 
dead  man  to  a  certainty — and  I  firmly  believe  he  was 
right  in  his  opinion. 

It  was  during  this  trip,  and  before  the  "  crash " 
that  I  witnessed  a  game  of  faro,  in  which  a  negro 
man   named   Fred   was   staked  and  played  for.     A 


THE    CHOLERA   IN   1833.  Ill 

negro  trader,  having  lost  all  his  ready  money,  offered 
to  stake  his  servant  on  the  game.  The  dealer  agreed 
to  this,  and  Fred  was  ordered  by  his  master  to  mount 
the  table  and  stand  upon  the  ace.  During  the  game 
he  was  "split"  twice  —  got  "out  of  split,"  —  being 
ordered  to  move  about  on  the  various  cards  to  suit  his 
master's  views — and  at  last  was  lost  on  the  corner  of 
the  deuce !  The  dealer  very  quietly  told  Fred  to 
step  down  on  his  side  of  the  table,  and  the  negro  was 
thus  transferred  to  a  new  owner  ! 

It  was  soon  ascertained  that  the  damages  sustained 
by  the  boat  could  not  be  repaired  without  going  to 
Pittsburgh,  and  during  the  night  all  the  cabin  passen- 
gers except  a  Mrs.  Miller,  her  sister,  and  our  family, 
took  their  departure  on  various  boats.  Next  morning 
Capt.  Haggerty  announced  to  his  few  remaining  pas- 
sengers that  in  a  day  or  two  he  thought  the  boat 
could  proceed  with  one  wheel.  We  concluded  to 
abide  by  the  fortunes  of  the  vessel ;  and  I  believe  it 
was  well  for  us  that  we  did,  for  the  cholera  entirely 
disappeared  with  the  crowd  of  passengers,  and  all  on 
board  enjoyed  good  health  the  remainder  of  the  jour- 
ney, arriving  at  Louisville  on  the  30th  of  May. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   FLOATING   THEATRE. 
Cincinnati — The  Chapman  Family — Fishing  for  "  Cat !" — Cholera. 

Arrived  at  Cincinnati  on  the  first  day  of  June, 
just  three  weeks  out  from  Mobile,  and  met  a  most 
cordial  reception  from  our  numerous  (almost  innume- 
rable) relatives  and  friends. 

The  great  pleasure  derived  from  meeting  with  my 
relations  and  friends  at  Cincinnati,  on  this  occasion, 
and  ahvays,  may  be  mentioned ;  but  it  is  not  a  subject 
to  interest  the  general  reader — so  I  pass  on,  in  my 
skimming  way,  to  theatrical  matters. 

The  Columbia  Street  Theatre  was  open  under  the 
management  of  Messrs.  Cabell,  Forrest  and  Muzzy. 
A  Mr.  Judah  was  playing  as  a  "  star."  Went  to  see 
him  enact  Richard  III.  Have  seen  better  Richards 
— and  worse.  Witnessed  Fletcher's  representation 
of  Ancient  Statuary.  Very  good.  Mr.  Fletcher  at 
this  time  (1853)  keeps  the  "  Portland  House,"  at 
Shrewsbury,  New  Jersey,  where,  with  a  portion  of 
my  family,  I  sojourned  last  summer  for  a  time.  Also 
witnessed  the  extraordinary  acting  of  Monsieur  (!) 
Gouft'e,  the  "Man  Monkey,"  for  the  first  time. 

One  of  the  most  comic  pieces  of  acting  ever  wit- 
nessed by  me  was  Mr.  Wm.  S.  Forrest's  personation 
of  Alonzo,  in  the  "Revenge,"  at  this  theatre. 

The   "  Chapman  Family,"    consisting    of    old  Mr. 

Chapman,  William  Chapman,  George  Chapman,  Caro- 
(112) 


THE    FLOATING    THEATRE.  113 


line  Chapman,  and  Harry  and  Therese  Chapman, 
(children)  came  to  the  west  this  summer,  opened  a 
theatre  at  Louisville,  and  afterwards  established  and 
carried  into  operation  that  singular  affair,  the  "  Float- 
ing Theatre,"  concerning  which  so  many  anecdotes 
are  told.  The  "family"  were  all  extremely  fond  of 
fishing,  and  during  the  "  waits "  the  actors  amused 
themselves  by  "  dropping  a  line  "  over  the  stern  of 
the  Ark.  On  one  occasion,  while  playing  the  "  Stran- 
ger," (Act  IV.,  Scene  1,)  there  was  a  long  stage  wait 
for  Francis,  the  servant  of  the  misanthropic  Count 
Walbourgh. 

"  Francis  !  Francis  !"  called  the  Stranger. 

No  reply. 

"  Francis  !  Francis  !"  (A  pause)  "  Francis  !"  rather 
angrily  called  the  Stranger  again. 

A  very  distant  voice — "  Coming,  sir  !"  (A  conside- 
rable pause,  during  which  the  stranger  walks  up  and 
down,  a  la  Macready,  in  a  great  rage.) 

"  Francis  !" 

Francis,  (entering) — Here  I  am,  sir. 

Stranger. — Why  did  you  not  come  when  I  called  ? 

Francis. — Why,  sir,  I  was  just  hauling  in  one  of 
the  d — dest  big  cat  fish  you  ever  saw  ! 

It  was  some  minutes  before  the  laughter  of  the 
audience  could  be  restrained  sufficiently  to  allow  the 
play  to  proceed. 

It  is  said  of  this  Floating;  Theatre  that  it  was  cast 
loose  during  a  performance  at  one  of  the  river  towns 
in  Indiana,  by  some  mischievous  boys,  and  could  not 
be  landed  for  half  a  dozen  miles,  the  large  audience 
being  compelled  to  walk  back  to  their  village. 

The   season   at   the   theatre  in  Third  street,  under 

10 


114  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

the  management  of  Messrs.  Russell  and  Rowe,  suc- 
cessors of  Mr.  Caldwell,  commenced  on  the  15th 
June.  The  company  consisted  of  Messrs.  Scott, 
Field,  Russell,  Judah,  Page,  Hernizen,  Charnock, 
Lyne,  Powell,  Gilbert,  Thorne ;  Mrs.  Rowe,  Mrs. 
Russell,  Mrs.  Ludlow,  Mrs.  Salzman,  Miss  Petrie. 

Mr.  Edwin  Forrest  commenced  an  engagement  on 
the  17th  June. 

The  Ravel  family  appeared  during  this  season,  and 
the  opera  of  "Cinderella"  was  produced — Mrs. 
Knight  playing  the  part  of  Cinderella.  Mr.  Page 
performed  Dandini ;  and  the  cast  was  otherwise  as  in 
New  Orleans. 

Cholera  broke  out  in  Cincinnati,  and  raged  vio- 
lently. It  did  not  pass  over  our  humble  home  without 
taking  its  victims.  When  we  recommenced  our  wander- 
ings, two  only  daughters  were  missing  from  the  family 
group  ;  two  boys  remained,  (Lemuel  and  Marcus,)  and 
they  are  living  at  this  day — each  a  happy  husband 
and  father ;  and  there  are  five  more  boys,  fast  grow- 
ing up  into  manhood,  who  look  to  me  for  protection 
and  fatherly  care. 

Of  Messrs.  Russell  and  Rowe's  company  Mr.  Char- 
nock and  Mr.  Page  fell  victims  to  the  epidemic.  Mr. 
Page  died  singing  the  music  of  the  opera  in  which  he 
last  appeared ! 


CHAPTER   XX. 

COMMENCEMENT   OF   A   LONO   JOURNEY. 

Organization  of  a  Strolling  Company — Traveling  through  Ken- 
tucky— "  All  the  World's  a  Stage"— Funds  getting  low— A 
timely  loan. 

Receiving  no  remittance  or  intelligence  from 
Messrs.  Palmer  and  Lyons,  my  successors  in  Georgia, 
about  the  1st  of  August  I  deemed  it  prudent  to  com- 
mence preparations  for  resuming  my  managerial 
sway  in  the  southern  regions.  The  cholera  continu- 
ing its  ravages,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  enlisting  a 
few  recruits,  for  the  winter  season  in  Georgia  and 
Alabama,  with  the  understanding  that  for  their 
services,  while  traveling,  and  until  the  commence- 
ment of  the  fall  season  in  Georgia,  their  traveling  and 
other  expenses  should  be  paid  by  me.  I  purchased 
two  wagons  and  teams,  a  set  of  scenery,  and  a  small 
lot  of  wardrobe  ;  engaged  a  small  party,  consisting 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Delmon,  (late  Miss  Charlotte 
Crampton,)  Mr.  Coney,  Mr.  Lyne,  Mr.  Gamble,  and 
one  or  two  others;  and  on  the  12th  of  August,  1833, 
leaving  the  cholera  behind  us,  as  we  hoped,  we  started 
for  Georgia,  through  Kentucky,  via  the  Cumberland 
Gap. 

Our  first  stopping  place  (for  business)  was  Paris. 
It  was  plainly  to  be  perceived  that  although  no 
cholera  actually  existed  there,  the  fear  of  it  kept 
people  from  assembling  together  in  large  numbers. 
Our  receipts  were  next  to  nothing;  and  I  soon  found 

(115) 


11 6  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

that  paying  the  boarding  and  traveling  expenses  of 
the  company  was  a  bad  speculation  ;  and,  worst  of 
all,  I  had  provided  myself  with  only  three  hundred 
dollars  for  the  journey,  supposing  that  we  should 
certainly  be  able  to  "  play  our  way"  triumphantly 
into  Georgia. 

Our  next  town  was  Richmond,  which  was  reached 
by  traveling  through  a  most  romantic  country,  cross- 
ing the  Kentucky  river  at  a  point  where  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  unload  our  wagons  and  "  tote"  the  trunks 
up  a  hill  at  least  half  a  mile,  the  horses  being  barely 
able  to  haul  the  empty  vehicles. 

At  Richmond  the  receipts  were  rather  better  than 
at  Paris,  but  nevertheless  very  small  ;  and  the 
authorities  of  the  place  charged  rather  a  heavy  tax 
on  our  performances,  which  did  not  set  us  forward 
any.  Here  began  dissensions  between  Mr.  Delmon* 
and  his  wife,  which  ended  in  the  departure  of  the 
former  for  Cincinnati. 

With  my  fund  considerably  diminished,  we  took 
our  departure  from  Richmond  on  Sunday,  the  1st  of 
September,  and  on  Tuesday  passed  through  the  town 
of  London,  (containing  five  houses  and  a  half,)  arriv- 
ing at  Barboursville,  at  the  foot  of  the  Cumberland 
mountains,  on  Wednesday.  Here  we  were  persuaded 
to  give  a  concert,  and  the  Barboursvillians  turned  out 
to  the  number  of  twenty-two,  at  25  cents  each,  (all 
they  would  pay  for  any  "show,"  they  said,)  giving 
us  a  sum  total  of  $5  50 — about  half  the  amount  of 
our  tavern  bill. 


*  The  real  name  of  this  young  man  was  Delmon  Grace;  but  he 
dropped  the  Grace  when  he  adopted  the  stage  as  a  profession. 


COMMENCEMENT    OF    A    LONG    JOURNEY.  117 

After  paying  toll  next  day  at  a  gate  on  our  way 
through  the  mountains,  my  "  ready  money"  had  be- 
come reduced  to  the  inconsiderable  sum  of  eight  dol- 
lars and  fifty  cents  '  Rather  a  discouraging  situa- 
tion we  were  in,  the  reader  will  probably  think — and 
we  were. 

On  the  6th  we  passed  over  and  through  what  is 
called  the  "  Cumberland  Gap,"  and  arrived  at 
Tazewell.  The  encouragement  here  for  a  concert 
was  very  small  indeed — and  a  theatrical  performance 
was  out  of  the  question,  there  being  no  room  largo 
enough.  Our  announcement  of  an  entertainment, 
consisting  of  songs,  recitations,  &c,  brought  forth  a 
demand  by  some  public  functionary  of  fifty  dollars 
for  license  !  After  considerable  search,  I  found  an 
old  statute  which  exempted  theatres  and  concerts 
from  the  operation  of  this  license  law,  and  we  were 
permitted  to  proceed  with  our  concert  wwlicensed1. 

Our  performance  was  given  in  the  dining  room  of 
the  hotel  where  we  stopped.  The  auditory,  about 
twenty  in  number,  were  seated  on  chairs  in  the  room, 
while  we,  the  performers,  sung  and  spoke  on  a  sort 
of  landing-place  or  gallery,  about  six  feet  long,  and 
two  and  a  half  feet  wide.  From  this  landing-place, 
which  was  four  feet  higher  than  the  floor  of  the 
room,  three  doors  opened,  one  communicating  with  our 
retiring  room,  one  to  a  sitting  room,  and  the  other  to 
the  stairway  which  led  to  the  rooms  above  ;  besides 
there  were  steps  leading  down  from  each  end  of  the 
platform  into  the  dining  room.  Persons  were  pass- 
ing from  one  room  to  the  other  continually,  and  the 
performer  was  obliged  to  move  whenever  any  one 
passed. 

10* 


118  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

Mr.  Lyne,  our  heavy  tragedian,  (afterwards  a  cele- 
brated Mormon  preacher,)  undertook,  as  his  share  of 
the  entertainment,  to  give  Shakspeare's  "  Seven 
Ages,"  from  the  comedy  of  "  As  You  Like  It."  I 
here  attempt  to  give  a  portion  of  the  recitation,  as 
spoken  on  this  occasion,  with  the  "side  speeches"  or 
interpolations  of  the  reciter,  caused  by  the  frequent 
interruptions  he  was  subjected  to  : 

All  the  world's  a  stage, 

[Sir,  (to  the  landlord,  a  fat  man,  who  entered  at 
the  moment,  shoving  the  actor  against  the  wall,)  Til 
thank  you  not  to  crowd  me  so — our  stage  is  very 
small.~\ 

And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players. 

[Don't — don't  crowd  me  off  /] 

They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances, 

[Indeed,  sir,  if  you  keep  going  in  and  out  in  this 
way,  I  cannot  go  on  with  my  speech.~\ 

And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 

[Now,  sir,  if  you  11  shut  that  door,  Til  be  obliged 
to  you.     "  Certainly,  sir,  go  ow."] 
His  acts  being  seven  ages. 

[Thank  you,  sir.     Now,  pray,  sit  down.~\ 

At  first  the  infant, 
Muling  and  puking  in  its  nurse's  arms ; 
[If  you  cant  stop  that  child's  crying,  madam,   I 
respectfully  recommend  that  you  retire  with  it  into 
another  room,  and  furnish  it  with  some  refreshment 
suited  to  its  tender  years.~\ 

And  then  the  whining  school  boy,  with  satchel  on  arm, 
[You  needn't  snuff  these  candles  just  now,  boy.~\ 
And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  a  snail, 


COMMENCEMENT    OF    A    LONG    JOURNEY.  119 


[I  shall  never  get  through  if  you  keep  jambing  me 
in  this  way.~\ 

Unwillingly  to  school. 

[  Waiter,  bring  me  a  julep.] 

And  then  the  lover, 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woful  ballad, 

[I  think  the  singing  takes  better  than  recitations.'] 

Made  to  his  mistress'  eyebrows. 
[It's  devilish  hot.] 

Then  the  soldier, 
Full  of  strange  oaths, 

[I  shall  swear,  'presently,  if  that  child  is  not  taken 
out,] 

And  bearded  like  the  pard, 

Jealous  in  honour,  sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel, — 

[Set  down  the  julep — Til  pay  you  ivhcn  the  per- 
formance is  over.] 

Seeking  the  bubble  reputation,  even  in  the  cannon's  mouth. 
[Sucks  julep  through  a  straw — pronounces  it  very 

good.] 

And  then  the  Justice,  &c,  &c.  &c. 

Next  morning,  after  settling  our  tavern  bill,  I  had 
not  enough  money  left  to  pay  for  our  breakfast, 
which  was  to  be  partaken  of  about  ten  miles  ahead. 
Our  avant  courier,  nevertheless,  was  directed  to  order 
the  usual  morning  meal,  and  on  went  the  vehicle,  con- 
taining the  majority  of  the  party,  while  I  remained 
behind  a  little,  in  order  to  "raise  the  wind,"  if  pos- 
sible, to  pay  for  the  expected  repast.  As  my  wagon 
was  brought  to  the  door,  I  asked  the  landlord  if  there 
was  such  a  personage  in  the  town  as  a  pawnbroker? 
He  did  not  understand  me.  "A  money  lender,"  I 
explained — "one  who  lends  money  on  pledges." 


120  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

"  Well,  yes — I  reckon  there  is  ;  our  postmaster, 
Mr.  ,  sometimes  lends  money  in  that  way." 

I  soon  found  Mr.  Postmaster,  and  opened  the  ne- 
gociation.  Offering  him  a  gold  chain  which  cost  $40, 
I  asked  a  loan  of  $20  on  it  for  one  month.  He  looked 
at  the  chain,  weighed  it  in  his  hand — and  declined. 

After  considerable  haggling,  the  worthy  postmaster 
offered,  out  of  pure  friendship,  (as  he  said,)  to  let  me 
have  $15,  if  I  would  return  him  $20  in  a  month,  and 
leave  my  gold  watch,  worth  $200,  as  security,  /de- 
clined this  time,  and  we  parted. 

Desperately  I  whipped  up  the  horses,  urging  them 
on  towards  our  breakfast  place,  my  appetite  entirely 
gone ;  but  fully  believing  that  I  should  come  across 
some  one  who  would  furnish  me  with  the  required  loan. 
I  felt  very  certain  of  this,  and  told  my  wife  so  ;  and 
sure  enough — just  before  reaching  the  dreaded 
haven,  we  overtook  a  Mr.  Burns,  with  a  drove  of 
horses,  a  person  we  had  frequetly  passed,  and  been 
passed  by,  during  the  journey.  "  That's  my  man," 
said  I,  as  we  neared  him. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Burns." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Smith." 

*'  Where  do  you  breakfast  this  morning  ?" 

"  At  this  place  just  ahead." 

"  So  do  I.      Can  I  speak  to  you  one  moment  ?" 

"  Certainly."  And  in  less  than  three  minutes  my 
immediate  wants  were  supplied  by  the  transfer  of  a 
twenty  dollar  bill  from  his  pocket  book  to  mine.  It 
turned  out  that  although  our  personal  acquaintance 
was  slight,  merely  from  casual  meetings  as  we  pro- 
gressed in  our  journey,  he  knew  me  very  well,  and 
was  perfectly  satisfied  with  my  responsibility.  Indeed 


COMMENCEMENT    OF   A    LONG   JOURNEY.  121 


he  wished  me  to  take  a  hundred  or  two  ;  but  I  posi- 
tively declined,  feeling  great  confidence  that  at  the 
Warm  Springs,  which  we  were  now  nearing,  we 
should  retrieve  our  fortunes,  and  be  in  funds  again. 
My  appetite  returning,  we  all  made  a  hearty  break- 
fast, and  pursued  our  journey  with  renewed  vigor  and 
spirits. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ALMOST   A    DUEL. 

Bean's  Station— A  Concert  in  the  Dark— The  Warm  Springs— Stage 
Coach  Adventures— Preacher  Smith — The  belligerent  Southerner 
— A  challenge— Weapons  objected  to — The  Preacher  yields,  and 
there  is  no  duel — Reflections,  twenty  years  after. 

Crossing  Clinch  Mountain,  from  which  there  is  the 
most  magnificent  view  I  ever  looked  upon,  and  par- 
taking of  some  water  from  a  strongly  impregnated 
chalybeate  spring  at  its  base,  we  reached  Bean's 
Station,  in  East  Tennessee,  on  the  evening  of  the 
7th  of  September,  and  "  put  up"  for  the  night.  It 
soon  became  noised  about  that  we  were  "  show  folk," 
and  a  very  strong  request  was  made  by  the  citizens 
of  the  little  settlement  that  we  should  give  a  perfor- 
mance in  the  parlor  of  the  hotel  or  tavern.  We 
acceded  to  the  request  after  considerable  persuasion, 
and  quite  a  number  of  persons,  male  and  female,  col- 
lected about  the  house  just  before  dark. 

Remembering  the  difficulty  I  had  experienced  on  a 
similar  occasion  many  years  previously,  as  related  in 
my  "Apprenticeship,"  when  we  were  obliged  to  use 
potatoes  for  candlesticks,  I  made  inquiry  of  our  land- 
lord as  to  the  manner  of  lighting  the  room  for  the  in- 
tended performance.  The  reader  will  scarcely  credit 
me  when  I  say  that  neither  a  candle  or  lamp  could 
be  procured  in  the  neighborhood!  Of  course  we 
expected  this  would  end  all  idea  of  the  proposed  perfor- 
mance ;  but  we  were  mistaken,  the  villagers  insisted  on 
(122) 


ALMOST    A    DUEL.  123 


the  fulfillment  of  our  promise  to  "give  them  a  show," 
and  at  last,  as  a  bit  of  fun,  I  told  them  that  we  would 
perform,  if  they  would  be  satisfied  that  we  should  do  so 
in  the  dark.  The  crowd  agreed  to  this  nem.  con., 
and  I  here  record  the  fact  that  we  gave  an  entertain- 
ment, consisting  of  songs,  duetts,  recitations  and  in- 
strumental music,  in  total  darkness  !  The  perform- 
ance appeared  to  take  well  with  the  audience,  the 
applause  being  liberally  showered  upon  us.  At  the 
close  I  dismissed  my  "  patrons"  with  the  assurance 
that  we  charged  nothing  for  our  services  on  that  occa- 
sion, which  seemed  to  please  them  more  than  even 
the  "  entertainment"  which  had  drawn  them  together, 
three  tremendous  cheers  being  voluntarily  given  for 
the  "show  folk,"  as  the  delighted  Bean  Stationers 
groped  their  way  to  the  door,  and  the  tired  travelers 
felt  their  ways  to  their  several  dormitories.  Next 
morning  we  found  that  our  hotel  expenses  had  been 
settled  by  some  of  the  leading  gentlemen  of  the  village, 
who  had  been  instrumental  in  getting  up  the  enter- 
tainment, and  we  wended  our  way  toward  the  North 
Carolina  Warm  Springs. 

Greenville  (East  Tennessee)  was  our  next  town, 
and  here  we  fitted  up  a  carpenter's  shop  in  good  stylo 
for  a  theatre,  and  opened  with  every  prospect  of  suc- 
cess. In  another  place  I  have  related  the  result  of 
our  three  nights'  season.  The  "  Tennessee  Door- 
keeper," who  considered  his  whole  duty  performed 
when  he  strictly  guarded  the  door,  leaving  the  win- 
dows wide  open  for  the  free  ingress  of  the  Greenvil- 
lians,  (just  returned  from  camp  meeting,)  will  be 
remembered  by  those  who  honored  my  "Anecdotical 
Recollections"  with  a  perusal. 


124  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

On  the  11th  of  September,  we  reached  the  Warm 
Springs,  Buncombe  county,  N.  C.  This  is  a  beauti- 
ful place,  situated  in  a  lovely  valley,  surrounded  by 
hills — mountains,  I  might  say.  The  river  French 
Broad  runs  in  front  of  the  premises.  The  principal 
building,  which  is  very  spacious,  is  surrounded  by 
beautiful  white  cottages  for  the  accommodation  of 
visitors.  The  Warm  Spring  is  a  great  curiosity.  The 
dining  room  of  the  hotel  is  capacitated  for  the  accom- 
modation of  800  diners  !  We  found  we  were  too 
LATE  in  arriving  here,  (just  my  luck  !)  nearly  all  the 
company  having  left  the  week  previously.  No  matter 
— we  determined  to  try  our  fortune  with  the  few 
pleasure-seekers  who  remained,  and  were  favored  with 
the  attendance  at  our  first  entertainment,  of  an  audi- 
ence composed  of  every  person  at  the  /Springs,  in- 
cluding a  numerous  body  of  black  servants,  belonging 
to  the  place,  who  occupied  the  "  upper  end  of  the 
hall,"  being  admitted  on  the  "free  list." 

Finding  that  our  heavy  tragedian  and  other  "  princi- 
pal actors"  could  be  of  no  use  whatever  in  the  concert 
line,  I  dispatched  them,  in  the  stage,  to  Greenville, 
S.  C,  and  gave  the  next  and  last  entertainment  with 
the  assistance  of  Mrs.  Smith  and  Mrs.  Delmon  only. 
This  was  attended  by  all  the  visitors  again — our  total 
receipts  the  two  nights  amounting  to  twenty-two 
dollars  and  seventy-five  one-hundredths. 

I  here  sold  one  of  my  teams,  pledged  my  $200 
watch  to  Col.  Patton,  our  landlord,  for  $50,  (never 
have  had  an  opportunity  to  redeem  it,)  paid  our  bill, 
returned  the  borrowed  money  to  my  friend  Burns,  the 
drover,  and  secured  seats  for  Mrs.  Smith,  Mrs.  Del- 
mon, my  two  little  boys  and   myself  for  Greenville, 


ALMOST    A    DUEL.  125 


S.  C,  where  we  were  told,  a  splendid  business  might 
be  calculated  on. 

On  getting  into  the  stage  coach,  I  was  greatly  sur- 
prised to  observe  two  men  on  the  back  seat,  naturally 
supposing  the  two  ladies  and  children  would  have  been 
permitted  to  occupy  that  place ;  but  my  surprise  Mas 
still   greater  when,   being   remonstrated  with  by  the 
agent,  they  claimed  the  seat  and  expressed  their  de- 
termination   to  keep  it.     In  all  my  travels,  before  or 
since,  1  have  never  met  with  a  case  like  this,  all  gen- 
tlemen I  have   traveled  with  having  ever  been   ready 
to  yield  the  back  seat  of  a  stage  coach  to  ladies.     Not 
wishing  to  delay  the  coach,  I  requested  the  ladies  and 
children  to  take  the  front  seat,  and  boiling  over  with 
passion,  I   ascended  to   the  box,  where  I  took  a  seat 
with  the  driver.     At  our  breakfast  place,  one  of  the 
occupants  of  the  back  seat  came  to  me,  and  offered  to 
resign  his  place  to  my  wife,  a  sense  of  shame  having 
overcome    him  on  the  way.     The  other  person,  who 
persisted  in  his  claim,  was  a  Mr.  Smith,  (it  was  such 
a  singular  name  I  shall  never  forget  it!)  a  preacher 
from  Charleston.      While  breakfast  was  getting  ready, 
I  went  to  the  reverend  gentlemen  and  told   him    that 
he  must   not   think  of  riding  inside  the  coach  any 
further ;   that  /  had  taken   my  turn  outside,  and  I 
wished  him  to  experience  the  pleasant  sensation  of 
riding  in  the  rain  for  a  dozen  miles  or  so,  as  I  had 
done.    He  turned  very  pale,  but  said  nothing.    Shortly 
after  he  took  his  co-occupant  of  the  back  seat  aside, 
and  after  some  conversation  between  them,  the  latter 
came  to  me  and  said  that  if  I  persisted  in  my  demand 
that  Parson  Smith  should  ride  outside  in  the  rain,  he 
should  espouse  his  cause,  and  see  that  no  harm  came 

11 


126  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

to  him — in  short,  that  he  would  not  permit  the 
preacher,  that  individual  being  a  non-combatant,  to 
be  treated  with  violence.  I  observed  that  in  Georgia 
I  had  heard  of  a  man  who  amassed  a  considerable  for- 
tune by  minding  his  own  business,  and  gently  hinted 
that  perhaps  he  might  profit  by  confining  his  atten- 
tion to  his  own  affairs.  This  rather  nettled  Mr. 
Bobadil,  (I  purposely  suppress  his  real  name,)  and  he 
cut  short  our  conversation  by  notifying  me  that  if  I 
offered  to  prevent  the  preacher's  entrance  into  the 
coach,  he  should  consider  it  a  personal  insult  and 
challenge  me  to  mortal  combat. 

"  Challenge  me,  will  you?"  said  I.  "I  will  not  ac- 
cept your  challenge  ;  I  am  bound  by  my  oath,  as  an 
attorney-at-law,  not  to  challenge  to  fight,  fight,  or  ac- 
cept a  challenge  to  fight  a  duel  with  deadly  weapons. 
I  shall  abide  by  my  oath." 

"You  can  resign  your  office  of  attorney-at-law, 
and  can  then  accept  my  challenge,"  replied  Mr.  B. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  resign,"  persisted  I,  "  I  don't 
want  to  be  at  liberty  to  accept  a  challenge  ;  I  don't 
believe  in  fighting  duels;  in  short — " 

At  this  juncture  breakfast  was  announced,  and  we 
all  made  a  good  meal  before  resuming  the  subject. 
Breakfast  over,  I  conducted  the  ladies  and  placed 
them  in  the  back  seat,  after  which  I  went  to  the 
clergyman  and  told  him  that  if  he  went  any  further 
by  that  conveyance,  he  must  ride  with  the  driver. 
Mr.  Bobadil  came  up  and  asked  in  a  formal  way  if  I 
intended  to  persist  in  my  determination  to  make  the 
clergyman  ride  on  the  outside.  My  answer  was  in  the 
affirmative. 


« 


ALMOST    A    DUEL.  127 

"Then,  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  challenge  you  to  give  me 
the  satisfaction  of  a  gentleman." 

I  answered — "  Sir,  I  have  no  cause  of  quarrel  with 
you — you  have  resigned  your  seat  to  the  ladies,  as  any 
gentleman  ought.  I  know  the  custom  of  this  country 
will  not  permit  me  to  decline  your  challenge ;  so  with 
great  sorrow  I  accept  it." 

"  It  is  well,"  replied  my  opponent.  "  I  have  a  pair 
of  pistols,  and  we  can  settle  this  affair  in  five 
minutes." 

u  Hold,  sir,"  I  interposed.  "  I  have  already  told 
you  I  am  principled  against  duelling — also  that  I 
have  taken  an  oath  not  to  fight  with  deadly  weapons. 
You  have  challenged  me — I  have  accepted  your  chal- 
lenge. If  I  am  rightly  informed  in  regard  to  your 
rules  in  matters  of  this  kind,  I,  the  challenged  party, 
have  a  right  to  select  the  time,  the  place,  and  the 
weapons;  am  I  right?" 

"  Undoubtedly,"  he  answered. 

"  I  avail  myself  of  my  right,  then,"  I  continued  : 
"  The  time  shall  be  now — the  place  here,  and  the 
weapons — FISTS." 

A  general  laugh  followed  this  announcement — a 
considerable  crowd  having  collected  by  this  time,  to 
witness  the  expected  duel. 

"Sir,"  said  Bobadil,  "the  time  I  agree  to — the 
place  I  make  no  objections  to — the  weapons  I  re- 
ject." 

"  On  what  grounds,  pray  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  On  the  ground  that  they  are  not  gentlemanly 
weapons,"  he  replied. 

"But  I  insist,"  said  I,  "  that  they  are  gentlemanly 
weapons." 


128  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


"  How  do  you  make  that  out  ?"  asked  he. 

"  Thus,"  I  replied  :  ;'  You  challenge  me  ;  by  which 
act,  according  to  your  rules,  }tou  acknowledge  me  to 
be  a  gentleman.  They  are  my  weapons — ergo,  they 
are  the  weapons  of  a  gentleman,  or  in  other  words, 
gentlemanly  weapons." 

Several  of  the  crowd  here  began  to  take  part  with 
me,  exclaiming — "  Good — well  argued — go  it,  law- 
yer !" 

"I  object  to  your  weapons,"  persisted  my  oppo- 
nent, "  on  the  ground  that  they  are  unusual,  and 
finally  that,  not  being  a  pugilist  myself,  the  chances 
would  be  greatly  in  your  favor." 

"Just  the  reason  that  I  named  them,"  I  replied. 
"  If  I  fight  in  the  way  proposed,  I  expect  to  conquer; 
whereas,  if  I  should  fight  with  your  confounded  pis- 
tols, it  is  ten  to  one  I  would  get  a  bullet  in  my 
thorax,  which  would  be  vastly  inconvenient,  I  assure 
you,  particularly  at  this  time,  when  I  am  under  a 
pledge  to  the  good  citizens  of  Greenville  to  appear 
before  them  day  after  day  to-morrow  night." 

The  laugh  being  entirely  against  Bobadil,  he  took 
new  ground — he  said  if  I  persisted  in  a  "  fist  fight," 
he  should  avail  himself  of  his  right  to  postpone  the 
battle,  and  procure  a  "  champion"  in  three  days. 

"  I  refuse  to  fight  any  champion — it  must  be  either 
yourself  or  the  preacher,"  said  I. 

Finding  that  not  much  was  to  be  made  out  of  me 
in  the  talking  line,  Mr.  Bobadil  proceeded  to  the 
coach,  where,  taking  out  and  cocking  a  pistol,  he  said 
to  the  preacher-  - 

"  Go  into  the  c«.*ich — I  am  here  to  protect  you." 

Th/j  reverend  gentleman  hesitated. 


ALMOST   A   DUEL.  129 


"Don't  attempt  to  go  into  the  coach,"  said  I, 
coming  up  to  the  other  side  of  the  door — "I  am  here 
to  prevent  you." 

The  parson  hesitated  just  a  moment,  and  then — 
mounted  the  box  and  took  his  seat  with  the  driver. 

This  ended  all  the  difficulty.  The  fighting  gentle- 
man became  as  friendly  as  a  "sucking  dove,"  and 
long  before  our  journey  was  over,  even  the  clergy- 
man joined  us  in  laughing  over  the  adventure,  and 
acknowledged  his  regret  at  having  claimed  the  back 
seat,  and  of  being  the  cause  of  any  Avoids  between 
the  South  Carolinian  and  myself. 

This  little  scene  took  place  twenty  years  ago.  At 
the  time,  and  long  afterwards,  I  thought  I  was  in  the 
right  during  the  whole  of  that  altercation.  I  record 
it  to  say  /  was  in  the  wrong — decidedly.  My  con- 
duct towards  the  preacher  was  almost  brutal,  and  I 
acknowledge  it  thus  publicly,  in  hope,  if  these  sheets 
should  meet  his  eye,  that  with  the  same  Christian 
spirit  which  impelled  him  to  ascend  to  the  top  of  the 
coach  to  endure  a  dripping  rain,  for  the  sake  of 
peace,  he  will  forgive  me  the  harsh  words  I  was 
guilty  of  uttering  on  that  occasion.  On  my  part, 
with  the  utmost  sincerity,  I  forgive  him  for  his  great 
impoliteness  in  taking  the  back  seat  in  the  coach  to 
the  exclusion  of  ladies  and  children,  and  feel  certain 
he  will  never  sin  in  that  way  again.  And  while  I  am 
about  it  I  may  as  well  accord  him  my  forgiveness  for 
a  furious  attack  he  afterwards  made  from  the  pulpit, 
in  Charleston,  upon  theatres  and  the  theatrical  pro- 
fession.    Amen. 

11* 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    QUARREL    OF    BRUTUS    AND    CASSIUS. 

Concert  at  Ashville — Arrival  at  Greenville — First  appearance  in 
South  Carolina — Amateur  Actors — Queer  Roman  Costumes — 
Great  success  of  the  Amateurs — Dying  kick  of  Cassius. 

Beyond  all  comparison,  the  road  from  the  Warm 
Springs  to  Ashville,  is  the  most  romantic  I  ever 
traveled;  that  is  for  a  road  that  is  a  road.  Project- 
ing rocks,  some  of  them  200  feet  high,  crowd  the 
traveler  almost  into  the  French  Broad  river,  nearly 
the  whole  87  miles.  The  river  itself  is  something  of 
a  curiosity,  being  almost  continuous  rapids  the  whole 
way. 

Ashville  is  a  very  small  village,  and  is  the  county 
seat  of  the  great  county  of  Buncombe,  which  Congress- 
men speak  to  so  often. 

On  the  urgent  request  of  many  persons,  we  gave  a 
concert  here — couldn't  give  a  "performance,"  in  con- 
sequence of  our  baggage  wagon  not  having  arrived — 
we  had  passed  it  on  the  way — and  received  from  the 
generous  villagers  and  fashionable  strangers  assem- 
bled there,  the  sum  of  six  dollars  and  seventy-five 
cents ! 

On  Tuesday,  17th  September,  we  arrived  at  the 
beautiful  village  of  Greenville,  and  on  Wednesday, 
having  completed  the  necessary  alterations  in  the 
masonic  lodge  room,  we  opened  it  as  a  theatre,  mak- 
ing our  first  appearance  before  a  South  Carolina 
audience,  in  the  comedy  of  the  "  Honey  Moon," 
(130) 


THE  QUARREL  OF  BRUTUS  AND  CASSIUS.    131 

(somewhat  cut  down,)  and  the  afterpiece  of  "  Family 
Jars."  The  four  nights  of  that  week  yielded  us  a 
receipt  of  about  $150. 

We  performed  two  more  nights  in  the  following 
week.  My  quondam  friend,  Bobadil,  (as  I  have 
called  him,)  and  another  gentleman,  came  to  me  on 
Tuesday  morning,  and  expressed  a  wish  to  make  their 
appearance  on  the  stage  in  a  tragedy  !  It  was  of 
course  out  of  the  question  to  get  up  a  tragedy  for 
their  accommodation  ;  but  it  struck  me  that  the  ap- 
pearance of  "  two  gentlemen  of  South  Carolina,  their 
first  attempt  on  any  stage,"  (or  in  any  lodge  room,) 
would  be  of  considerable  benefit  to  my  exchequer  ;  so 
I  told  them  they  might,  if  they  thought  proper,  enact 
the  celebrated  quarrel  scene  of  Brutus  and  Cassias, 
in  Shakspeare's  "  Julius  Gsesar."  This  just  suited 
them,  as  they  were-both  familiar  with  the  text,  having 
at  various  times  taken  part  in  it  at  school.  They 
went  at  it,  hammer  and  tongs,  rehearsing,  while  I 
sent  out  the  performers  of  our  troupe  to  make  the 
fact  known  confidentially,  to  as  many  people  as  they 
could  find,  that  Messrs.  B.  and  G.  were  to  appear 
that  night.     The  house  was  crowded. 

Perhaps  the  reader  is  not  aware  what  tricks  ama- 
teur actors  are  subjected  to  when  they  aspire  (or  con- 
descend, as  they  consider  it)  to  perform  with  regular 
actors.  Some  slight  idea  may  be  formed  by  the 
manner  in  which  these  gentlemen  were  treated  on  this 
occasion — all  the  actors  lending  a  hand,  of  course,  to 
assist  in  putting  them  through. 

First,  the  dressing.  (They  had  requested  to  be  so 
completely  disguised  that  no  one  could  know  them.) 
Cassius  (Bobadil)  wore  a  gray  tunic,  a  large  spangled 


132  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 


shoulder  cloak,  slouched  hat  and  feathers ;  stock, 
gray  wig  with  a  very  long  tail,  black  whiskers, 
(painted  with  cork,)  mustachios  turned  up,  large  eye- 
brows, nankin  pantaloons,  boots,  spurs!  gauntlets, 
broadsword  and  truncheon.  Brutus,  his  companion 
in  arms,  (Mr.  G.,)  was  rigged  out  with  a  soldier's 
coat,  Scotch  kelt,  large  modern  military  hat,  with 
enormous  red  and  white  feather,  leopard-skin  cloak, 
as  worn  by  Rolla,  blue  military  pantaloons,  consider- 
ably too  short,  pumps  and  spurs,  (couldn't  do  without 
the  spurs,)  red  wig,  black  whiskers,  mustachios  turned 
down,  (as  a  contrast,)  a  Turkish  scimitar,  two  pistols 
in  his  belt,  gauntlets,  very  high  standing  shirt  collar, 
white  cravat,  tied  with  an  enormous  bow,  and  ruffled 
shirt,  displayed  to  the  best  advantage.  Thus  ac- 
coutred, they  appeared  before  the  audience,  with  a 
success  unprecedented  in  that  town,  I'll  venture  to 
say,  and  probably  not  exceeded  anywhere.  Cassius 
ranted  and  stamped  like  mad,  keeping  his  back  to 
the  audience,  and  crowding  the  "  gentle  Brutus" 
into  a  corner,  where  that  personage  quietly  "  took  the 
word"  from  the  prompter,  and  kept  a  bold  front  to 
the  public  until  the  dialogue  was  concluded.  The 
applause  and  laughter  of  the  audience  shook  the 
masonic  hall  to  its  foundations.  The  gentlemen  actors 
were  in  high  glee  at  their  success,  and  Bobadil  asked 
me  if  there  would  be  anything  improper  in  volunteer- 
ing a  comic  song.  Consenting  at  once  to  this  ad- 
dition to  the  fun  of  the  evening,  I  rang  up  the  curtain, 
and  Cassius  gave  a  very  passable  song,  entitled  the 
''King  and  the  Countryman."  This  pleased  the  ex- 
cited public  so  well  that  they  called  for  a  song  from 
the  other  gentleman.     Mr.  G.  had  begun  to  discover 


THE  QUARREL  OF  BRUTUS  AXD  CASSIUS.  133 


the  joke,  and  was  in  the  act  of  disrobing  when  this 
call  was  made,  and  nothing  should  induce  hirn,  ha 
said,  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  a  moment  longer — 
"besides,"  he  added,  "I  never  sung  a  song  in  my 
life."  Cassius  was  somewhat  enraged  at  his  com- 
rade's refusal  to  gratify  the  audience,  and  proposed, 
as  the  noise  was  kept  up,  that  since  Brutus  would 
not  sing,  they  should  act  the  quarrel  scene  over  again  ; 
but  Brutus  positively  refusing,  the  fiery  Cassius 
turned  to  me  and  offered  to  dance  a  hornpipe,  if  that 
would  be  satisfactory  to  our  patrons.  Putting  on  a 
grave  face,  I  said — 

"  It  is  very  plain  to  my  comprehension,  that  the 
audience  do  not  want  singing  or  dancing — what  they 
want  is  a  little  more  tragedy." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  Cassius.  "Well,  what 
can  we  give  them  ?" 

"  I  know  of  nothing  you  can  give  them,"  replied  I, 
"better,  or  more  appropriate,  or  more  likely  to  be  ac- 
ceptable, than  the  death  scene  of  Cassius  on  the  plains 
of  Philippi." 

"  Hah  !  the  very  thing !"  agreed  the  excited  ama- 
teur, "but  I  havn't  studied  it.  What  are  the 
words  ?" 

I  put  a  volume  of  Shakspeare  into  his  hands, 
pointing  to  the  page,  called  our  low  comedian,  Mr. 
Coney,  (dressed  for  Biggory,)  and  told  him  he  must 
perform  the  part  of  Pindarus,  Cassius'  freed  man, 
which  he  very  willingly  undertook  to  do,  "  under  the 
circumstances,  at  very  short  notice,"  and  Cassius  hav 
ing,  as  he  thought,  mastered  the  few  lines  of  the  scene 
to  be  enacted,  the  curtain  was  again  rung  up. 

Cassius  had  by  some  accident,  (or  more  likely  by 


134  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-AVORK. 

eome  contrivance  of  one  of  the  actors,)  changed  hata 
with  Brutus,  and  he  now  appeared  with  the  large  mili- 
tary cocked  hat  which  had  sat  so  gracefully  on  the  brow 
of  the  "noblest  Roman  of  them  all." 

The  scene  which  followed  was  ludicrous  in  the  ex- 
treme. 

Casting. — Come  hither,  sirrah  ! 

In  Parthia  did  I  take  thee  prisoner, 
And  then  I  swore — I  swore — 

[D — d  if  I  can  remember  any  more.] 
**•     Prompter. — I  swore — 
Cassius. — [I've  said  that..] 
Prompter. — And  then  I  swore  thee,  &c. 

Cassius. — [Yes,  I  remember.']   I  swore  thee,  saving  of  thy  life — 
Prompter. — That  whatsoever  I'd  bid  thee  do — 
Cassius. — That  whatsoever  I'd  bid  thee  do — 

Thou    shouldst   attempt   it.      Come    now    keep    thine 
oath. 
Prompter. — (Cassius  repeating  after  him.) 

Now  be  a  freeman,  and  with  this  good  sword. 
C        [  Where  is  it?  Oh,  here  on  the  wrong  side.] 
That  ran  through  Caesar's  bowels,  search  this  bosom. 
Here,  take  thou  the  hilts. 

[  Coney  takes  sword  and  an  attitude.  ] 
And  when  my  face  is  covered,  as  'tis  now. 

[How  am  I  to  cover  my  face?    This  surtout  won't 
reach.] 
Manager. — [Pull  your  hat  over  your  eyes.] 

Castiut. — [Oh,  very  well; pulls  the  hat  over  his  eyes  and  down  to 
his  nose.]     Guide  thou  the  sword. 

[  Coney  stabs  him  several  times,  which  Cassius  not 
observing,  being  blindfolded,  continues  to  stand 
with  his  arms  extended,  trying  to  run   on    the 
sword.  ] 
Manager. — (From  the  wing) — Fall ! 

[Cassius  falls  with  all  his  weight,  half  his  body 
off  the  stage,  still  blindfolded.] 
Manager. — Now  for  the  dying  words. 
Cassius. — [  What  are  they  ?] 


THE  QUARREL  OF  BRUTUS  AND  CASSIUS.   135 

Prompter  — Caesar,  thou  art  revenged,  &c. 

Cassius. — Caesar,  thou  art  revenged   even  with  the  sword  that 

killed  thee. 
Manager. — Now  for  the  dying  struggle. 
Cassius. — [Gives  several  dying  kicks — the  curtain  falls.] 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    MISSES   AND    MADAMS   OP   THE    STAGE. 

Pendleton — Distinguished  Men — Grace  over  mush — A  marriage  in 
the  company — Misses  and  Mistresses — Branches  of  the  Georgia 
Company.  Letter  from  Mr.  Dyke—  Death  of  Palmer  in  Missouri, 
and  Lyons  at  sea. 

Our  next  town  was  Pendleton,  the  very  centre 
of  the  state,  and  then  the  hot-bed  of  Nullification. 
After  considerable  difficulty,  the  Farmers'  Hall  was 
procured  for  our  performances,  and  the  Pendletonians 
were  treated  to  the  first  representation  of  a  play  and 
afterpiece  in  their  town,  on  a  brick  floor. 

On  the  first  day  of  our  stay  in  this  place,  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  four  plain-looking  gentlemen  in 
consultation  on  some  county  or  district  business  at 
one  end  of  the  Farmers'  Hall,  while  we  were  putting 
up  scenery  at  the  other.  These  farmer-looking 
gentlemen  were  Col.  Hugee,  John  C.  Calhoun, 
Gov.  Hamilton  and  Mr.  Pinckney.  It  is  very  sel- 
dom one  sees  four  such  distinguished  men  together 
any  where. 

We  acted  about  a  week  in  Pendleton,  during  the 
races,  to  very  moderate  houses,  paying  $5  per  night 
to  the  town  treasurer  for  the  privilege,  and  then 
pulled  up  stakes,  determined  to  get  out  of  the  state 
as  soon  as  possible. 

Monday,  October  7th,  passed  through  Anderson 
village,  the  seat  of  justice  for  the  district,  where  we 
were  urged  to  perform  a  few  nights.  No  ! — positively 
(136) 


TIIE   MISSES  AND   MADAMS    OF   THE    STAGE.      1ST 

no  more  acting  by  us  in  South  Carolina,  where  they 
tax  us  about  two-thirds  of  our  receipts.  Tuesday 
night,  stayed  at  a  Mrs.  Liddell's,  where  we  had  mush 
and  milk  for  supper,  "  by  particular  desire  !"  When 
we  seated  ourselves  at  the  table,  the  landlady  raised 
her  hands  towards  the  ceiling  and  pronounced  the  fol- 
lowing words,  instead  of  asking  a  blessing : 

"Come  all  ye  mush^eaters  of  the  best, 
Aloft  your  spoon  shanks  raise, 
And  in  the  voice  of  melody, 

Sing  forth  the  mush-pot's  praise." 

Supposing  it  might  be  a  custom  of  the  country,  we 
sang  the  lines  to  the  tune  of  Mear,  and  then  fell  to. 

Next  morning  after  paying  a  swingeing  bill,  (for 
poetry,  mush  and  lodging,)  we  proceeded  on  to  Ab- 
beville Court  House,  where  we  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  paying  no  tax  for  playing,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  we  did  not  play,  though  strongly  urged  to 
do  so.  Thursday  morning  we  crossed  the  Savannah 
river,  on  each  side  of  which,  at  our  crossing-place, 
stands  a  town — Lisbon  on  one  side,  and  Vienna  on 
the  other — and  arrived  the  same  night  at  WASHING- 
TON, in  Georgia.  Here  we  were  announced  to  per- 
form three  nights  ;  but  to  our  utter  dismay,  on  the 
rising  of  the  curtain  we  found  that  only  nine  persons 
constituted  our  entire  audience !  At  the  close  of  the 
performance,  I  directed  the  carpenter  to  take  down 
the  scenery  and  be  ready  for  an  early  start  in  the 
morning.  A  great  many  people  remonstrated  against 
this  hasty  retreat,  saying  that  now  the  citizens  under- 
stood the  performance  was  "respectable,"  they  would 
crowd  the  room  the  other  two  nights ;  but  I  was  firm 

12 


138  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


in  my  determination  to  leave,  and  leave  we  did,  with- 
out subjecting  ourselves  to  the  chance  of  such  another 
mortification. 

Two  of  our  company,  Mrs.  Delmon  and  Mr.  Coney, 
were  married  in  this  place ;  that  is  to  say,  the  mar- 
riage   ceremony  was    performed — I    cannot    suppose 
there  was  any  legality  in  it,  as  Mr.  Delmon  was  alive 
at  the  time.     Poor  Coney  afterwards  went  to  Texas, 
joined  a  military  company,  and  was  killed  in  battle. 
Mrs.  Coney,  after  marrying  several  other  gentlemen  in 
the    theatrical    profession,  is    at   this  moment  (June, 
1853)   performing   in   the   city  where   I  am  writing, 
(St.  Louis,)  under  her  maiden  name  of  "  Miss  Cramp- 
ton  !"     She  is  certainly  a  very  talented  actress,  and 
in  retaining  or  rather  resuming  her  maiden  name  she 
is  only  following  the  example  of  Miss  Julia  Bennett, 
Miss  Anna  Londsdale,  Miss  Anna  Criuse,  Miss  Vallee, 
Mademoiselle  Celeste,  and  a  hundred  others,  some  of 
whom  are  "happy  wives"  and  mothers  of  children. 
This   sailing   under  false   colors   is  a  most  ridiculous 
and   disgraceful   custom,    and   operates  more  against 
the  respectability  of  the  profession  than  anything  I 
know  of.     Some  remarks  of  an  old  and  valued  friend 
on   this   subject,  contained  in  a  letter  just  received, 
are  so  much  in  consonance  with  my  own  views,  that  I 
insert  them : 

"Miss is  a  daily  iterated  lie,  or  she  is  a  shameless  prosti- 
tute !  Does  she  intend  to  deceive  the  public  into  a  belief  that  she 
is  an  unmarried  woman?     She  courts  their  censure  by  cohabiting 

with  Mr.  .     Does  she  claim  their  respect  as  a  married  woman, 

as  Mrs.  ?     She  challenges  their  contempt  by  falsely  assuming 

to  be  Miss .     This  may  by  some  be  considered  as  a  pardonable 

deception ;  but  I  have  had  good  evidence  that  it  has  led  people  to 


THE    MISSES  AND    MADAMS    OF    THE    STAGE.      139 

doubt  the  respectability  of  every  person  in  the  profession.  They  say 
—'Oh,  you  cannot  tell  anything  about  actors  or  actresses,  whether 
they  are  maried  or  single  ;  they  have  no  respect  for  the  marriage 
ceremony;  even  those  who  have  husbands  try  to  conceal  the  fact, 
considering  the  advantage  of  being  called  Mimes  of  far  more  impor- 
tance than  to  be  respected  as  married  women.'  What  can  be  said 
in  favor  of  a  profession  where  the  women  can  coolly  sacrifice  their 
private  reputation  for  the  sake  of  an  infamous  notoriety.  Lan- 
guage of  this  kind  is  common — how  can  it  be  otherwise  ?" 

Being  returned  to  Georgia,  I  thought  it  time  to  make 
inquiry  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  my  company,  left 
in  charge  of  Managers  Palmer  and  Lyons.  It  had 
scattered!  There  were  several  "branches"  of  the 
original  stock  perambulating  the  state  ;  but  the  Gen- 
erals had  beat  a  retreat,  and  had  "  wandered  away, 
no  one  knew  whither  !" 

A  Mr.  Dyke,  someweat  notorious  as  a  strolling 
manager  in  Indiana  and  Illinois,  having  engaged  one 
or  two  of  my  former  company,  (a  carpenter  and  door- 
keeper,) announced  his  concern  as  one  of  my  branches*. 
Some  years  ago  this  same  Dyke  applied  to  my  brother 
Lemuel  for  an  engagement  in  the  words  and  figures 
following,  to  wit : 

"Dear  Sib: — I  am  informed  u  are  in  want  of  a  woman  I  can 
furnish  you  with  my  wife.  She  plays  Mrs.  Haller  and  dunces  the 
slack  wire  elegantly — the  vur. utility  of  her  talents  you  may  per- 
ceive by  this  is  astonishing ;  and  I  don't  give  up  the  mock  duke  to 
no  actor  in  the  country,  if  you  waDt  my  wife  you  can  have  us 
boath  on  reasonable  tunns,  say  ate  (8)  dollars  for  her  and  sicks  (6) 
for  me.     Rite  by  return  of  male.  Ures, 

WU  DYKE." 

Pushed  on  to  Mtlledgeville,  where  we  arrived  on 
the  18th  of  October,  and  commenced  preparations  for 
opening  the  theatre,  which  was  no  small   task,  inas- 


140  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

much  as  Messrs.  Palmer  and  Lyons  had  "managed" 
to  destroy,  scatter  and  lose  nearly  everything  in  the 
shape  of  wardrobe,  scenery  and  properties  entrusted 
to  them.  Mr.  Lyons  I  did  not  meet  for  two  or  three 
years  afterwards.  Mr.  Palmer  came  to  see  me  during 
the  time  that  we  remained  in  Milledgeville  ;  and  in 
consequence  of  his  having  taken  part  with  the  mur- 
derer of  my  brother  during  my  absence — that  brother 
having  always  been  a  kind  friend  to  him  when  living — 
I  uttered  this  prophecy  :  "  Palmer,  you  will  die  in 
A  DITCH  !"  Five  years  afterwards  he  came  to  me  here 
in  St.  Louis,  a  poor  drunken  wretch,  begging  for 
means  to  purchase  bread.  I  gave  him  $5,  and  he 
left  me.  Next  day  I  learned  that,  in  crossing  a  gully, 
on  his  way  to  St.  Charles,  he  fell  in,  and  actually 
died  in  the  way  I  had  prophecied !  Lyons,  about  the 
game  time,  (1838,)  formed  a  company  for  Texas,  and 
embarking  on  board  a  brig  at  New  York,  was  lost,  with 
all  the  company  except  two,  (Mr.  Dougherty  and  an- 
other,) the  vessel  being  upset  in  a  gale. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

FIRE   IN   THE    CAPITOL. 

Commencement  of  the  season — Fire — State  House  saved — A  Negro 
rewarded,  after  a  while — I  claim  a  pair  of  boots. 

With  a  rather  inefficient  company,  consisting  of 
some  few  stragglers  reclaimed  from  my  "branches," 
and  the  recruits  I  had  brought  with  me  from  Cincinnati, 
the  Milledgeville  Theatre  was  opened  on  Monday,  28th 
of  October,  with  the  comedy  of  the  "  Soldier's  Daugh- 
ter," and  the  standard  farce  of  "  Family  Jars." 

Business  continued  dull  until  the  assemblage  of  the 
legislature,  on  the  4th  of  November,  when  the  tide 
turned  in  our  favor  and  continued,  with  but  little 
variation,  to  the  end  of  the  session  and  season. 

A.  H.  Pemberton,  Esq.,  from  Augusta,  passed 
most  of  his  time  here  during  the  session.  This  gen- 
tleman (now  dead)  was  a  very  energetic  political 
writer,  and  wielded  a  considerable  influence  in  the 
affairs  of  the  state.  He  was  a  warm  advocate  and  able 
defender  of  the  stage,  and  wrote  in  its  favor  whenever 
opportunity  offered.  In  1831,  he  received  the  thanks, 
in  a  series  of  resolutions,  of  Mr.  Caldwell's  company, 
then  performing  in  St.  Louis,  for  his  able  and  mas- 
terly defence  of  the  drama,  and  of  a  member  of  our 
profession,  Mrs.  F.  Brown,  against  the  attacks  of  a 
fanatic  named  Gilchirst. 

On  the  16th  of  November  there  was  an  alarm  of  fire, 
and  it  was  soon  ascertained  that  the  state  house  was 
burning.     Our  company  instantly  suspended  rehearsal 

12*  (141) 


142  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

and  repaired  to  the  spot,  where  all  were  engaged  in 
carrying  out  the  valuable  documents,  records,  and 
the  assets  of  the  Central  Bank  of  Georgia.  I  did 
not  perceive  that  any  persons  were  making  attempts 
to  extinguish  the  fire,  which  was  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  house — all  seeming  to  be  impressed  with  the  idea 
"the  house  must  go,"  there  being  no  engines  in  the 
town.  Meeting  an  acquaintance  or  two,  (I  remember 
the  names  of  Messrs.  McElvoy  and  Williams)  I  pro- 
posed that  we  should  go  up  and  ascertain  where  the 
fire  was.  These  gentlemen  acceded  to  the  proposition, 
and  on  our  way,  seeing  a  very  large  and  strong  negro 
man  busily  at  work  carrying  out  books,  we  enlisted 
him  in  our  little  band  and  proceeded  to  the  roof,  where 
we  soon  found  that  by  energetic  and  prompt  action 
it  was  yet  possible  to  save  the  building.  I  am  not 
going  to  describe  the  proceedings  which  took  place — 
suffice  it  to  say  they  were  successful ;  the  state  house 
was  saved.  The  following  article  from  the  pen  of  Mr. 
Pemberton,  in  the  Augusta  Chronicle,  will  show  that 
due  credit  was  given  to  those  who  were  happily  instru- 
mental in  saving  the  government  building  : 

"Great  credit  is  due  to  Peter  Williams,  Esq.,  Sol.  Smith,  Esq., 
of  the  theatre,  Mr.  McElvoy  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  and 
one  or  two  others  whose  names  we  do  not  know,  and  a  Negeo,  for 
their  intrepid  and  indefatigable  exertions  on  the  roof,  to  which, 
mainly,  the  preservation  of  the  bnilding  is  to  be  attributed.  We 
trust  the  members  of  the  Legislature  and  the  people  of  Milledge- 
rille,  which  latter  have  a  deep  interest  in  the  preservation  of  the 
state  house,  will  propose  a  benefit  to  Mr.  Smith,  and  give  him  a 
glorious  bumper  for  his  fearless  and  most  valuable  exertions  on  the 
occasion.     He  richly  deserves  it." 

The  "benefit"  was  proposed,  at  $5  a  ticket,  but  I 


FIRE  IN  THE  CAPITOL.  143 

shrank  from  the  acceptance  of  any  such  demonstra- 
tion. The  negro,  however,  (Gods  !  how  that  fellow 
did  work  !)  was  rewarded  by  the  legislature  with  his 
freedom ;  or  rather,  I  should  say,  it  was  the  intention 
of  the  members  to  vote  him  his  freedom  ;  but  in  their 
hasty  legislation  they  voted  $1800  to  purchase  the 
man,  and  forgot  to  pass  an  act  for  his  emancipation  ! 
It  was  only  last  year  (1852)  that  the  governor  dis- 
covered the  omission,  and  the  legislature  passed  the 
necessary  act.  The  noble  fellow  had  been  for  nine- 
teen years  the  property  of  the  commonwealth,  and 
had  busied  himself  in  taking  care  and  keeping  in 
order  the  building  he  had  so  efficiently  assisted  in  pre- 
serving. 

Now  one  word  for  myself.  In  that  affair  I  lost  a 
good  (almost  new)  overcoat,  and  a  valuable  pair  op 
boots,  which  I  took  off  while  working  on  the  roof. 
The  coat  I  say  nothing  about ;  but  the  boots  ! — I 
don't  think  it  would  be  at  all  out  of  the  way  if  the 
State  of  Georgia  were  to  make  me  a  present  of  a 
bran  new  pair  ;  and  I  hope  Governor  Cobb,  before  he 
retires  from  the  station  he  has  filled  so  well,  will  look 
into  this  business.  Although  I  declined  the  proposed 
benefit,  I  will  not  decline  the  boots,  if  offered. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


BYROM,  THE  GAMBLER. 


The  ruined  Merchant — The  Oath — Appointment  to  die  at  Midnight 
— Death  of  Byrom — Conviction  of  Murder  on  Circumstantial 
Evidence,  and  execution  of  an  innocent  man. 

"  Henry  Byrom,  the  gambler,  is  shot !" 
Such  were  the  words  which  were  passed  from  one 
to  another  on  the  morning  of  the  20th  of  November, 
1833,  at  the  seat  of  government  of  the  State  of 
Georgia.  Henry  Byrom,  a  young  man  of  fine  talents, 
and  well  educated,  was  a  merchant  in  one  of  the 
small  towns  of  Georgia,  operating  on  a  capital  of 
$10,000  furnished  by  his  mother.  In  an  evil  hour  he 
entered  a  gambling  house,  "just  to  see  what  was  going 
on,"  and  was  induced  to  make  some  small  bets  on  the 
game  of  faro.  He  was  successful  at  first ;  but  before 
midnight,  stimulated  by  strong  drinks,  with  which 
he  was  plied,  he  not  only  lost  all  the  ready  money  he 
had  with  him,  but  became  deeply  in  debt  to  the 
keeper  of  the  bank.  Next  day  he  was  unfit  for  busi- 
ness, and  did  not  open  his  store,  and  when  night  again 
shrouded  the  earth,  he  stealthily  sought  the  gambler's 
den,  determined  to  retrieve  his  fortunes  or  lose  all. 

"  Here  is  the  key  of  my  store,"  said  he  to  the 
the  banker,  throwing  it  down  upon  the  table,  "  in  it  is 
a  stock  of  goods  which  cost  $10,000 ;  give  me  checks 
— I  play  until  I  win  back  my  last  night's  losses,  or 
you  win  all  the  store  contains." 
(144) 


BYROM,  THE    GAMBLER.  145 

"  Agreed,"  said  the  banker,  and  commenced  turn- 
ing the  cards. 

In  two  short  hours  all  was  decided  ;  the  key  re- 
mained in  possession  of  the  banker,  and  Byrom  rushed 
out  into  the  square  a  ruined  man  ! 

"I swore  an  oath,"  said  Byrom,  when  relating  these 
occurrences  to  me,  "  that  from  that  moment  /  would 
prey  upon  mankind  ;  i"  would  learn  the  devilish  arts 
of  the  gambler,  and  turn  them  against  my  fellow-men. 
I  have  done  so — behold  me  now — I  am  no  longer  a 
merchant — no  longer  a  respectable  man.  Can  he  be 
respectable — nay,  can  he  lay  any  claim  to  a  shadow  of 
respectability — who  has  gambled  away  his  mother's 
all,  and  caused  her  death  ?  No  !  no  !  I  am — Byrom, 
the  gambler  !" 

Traveling  from  Milledgeville  to  Athens  in  a  stage 
coach  with  a  mother  and  her  two  daughters,  his  fine 
appearance  and  polished  manners  made  an  impression 
so  favorable  that  when  the  coach  stopped  and  he  was 
bowing  his  adieu,  the  old  lady  expressed  the  hope  that 
he  would  call  on  them  if  he  should  visit  Macon,  where 
they  resided.  lie  smiled  languidly  as  he  listened 
to  the  old  lady ;  then,  drawing  himself  up,  he  threw 
open  his  outside  traveling  coat,  and  casting  a  piercing 
glance  at  the  ladies,  he  laughed  sarcastically,  and 
exclaiming,  "I  am  Byrom,  the  gambler!"  walked 
away. 

Byrom,  when  1  knew  him,  was  one  of  the  most  expert 
of  the  "sporting  men"  in  the  state;  he  played  high, 
drank  deep,  and  was  in  fact  a  gentlemanly  desperado. 
In  an  affray  he  killed  a  Mr.  Ellis,  of  Macon,  in  IS-Il', 
and  was  now  in  Mill.'dgcville,  pursuing  his  nefarious 
profession.     On  the  night  of  the  19th  of  November, 


146  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY- AVORK. 

some  difficulty  occurring  between  a  hotel-keeper,  (Mr. 
Macomb,)  and  Col.  Ward,  a  friend  of  Byrom's,  fire- 
arms were  resorted  to,  and  the  Colonel  received  a 
dangerous  wound  from  a  pistol  shot.  Byrom  became 
savage,  and  threatened  vengeance  on  Macomb,  who,  it 
was  universally  conceded,  acted  only  in  self-defence. 
I  heard  the  conclusion  of  a  speech  he  made  to  a  large 
concourse  of  people,  from  the  steps  of  the  hotel  where 
Macomb  lay  wounded.  He  denounced  Macomb  and 
all  who  sided  with  him  as  poltroons  and  cowards,  and 
dared  them,  one  and  all,  to  "  fight  it  out"  with  Mm, 
said  that  he  would  have  the  heart's  blood  of  Macomb, 
and  concluded  by  taking  out  his  watch  and  saying : — 

I  APPOINT  TWELVE  O'CLOCK  THIS  NIGHT  TO  DIE,  AND 
INVITE  YOU  ALL  TO  MY  FUNERAL." 

Macomb's  friends  had  armed  themselves,  and  stood 
ready,  on  the  second  floor  of  a  back  gallery,  to  repel 
any  attack  which  might  be  made.  Byrom  continued 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  platform  beneath  the  gallery, 
with  a  cocked  pistol  in  each  hand,  until  exactly  twelve 
o'clock,  when  exclaiming,  "come,  it  is  time!"  he 
rushed  up  the  steps,  and  was  met  by  the  discharge  of 
a  volley  of  musketry,  which  laid  him  dead.  There  I 
saw  his  lifeless  body  the  next  morning,  the  pistols 
still  grasped  in  his  clenched  hands.  Seven  or  eight 
buckshot  had  entered  his  brain — and  that  was  the  end 
of  Byrom,  the  gambler. 

On  Friday,  22d  of  November,  I  witnessed  the  exe- 
cution of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Johnson,  convicted  of  murder- 
ing his  wife's  sister,  a  child  about  twelve  years  of  age, 
by  hanging  her  on  a  hackbury  tree.  His  guilt  ap- 
peared undoubted,  although  the  evidence  was  all  cir- 
cumstantial.    On  the  gallows  he  seemed  quite  uncon- 


EXECUTION  ON  AN  INNOCENT  MAN.  147 


cerned.  He  had  evidently  made  up  his  mind  to  die, 
all  intercessions  to  the  legislature  on  his  behalf  for  a 
pardon  having  proved  unavailing.  His  wife,  who  was 
mainly  instrumental  in  proving  his  guilt,  was  on  the 
gallows  with  him,  and  seemed  anxious  that  her  hus- 
band should  forgive  her  before  he  suffered.  The  poor 
man,  whose  hands  were  fast  tied,  could  not  embrace 
his  wife ;  but  allowed  her  to  embrace  him,  and  ap- 
peared rather  pleased  when  she  got  through  with  her 
caresses.  Mr.  Johnson  was  then  asked  if  he  had  any- 
thing to  say  before  he  suffered  the  extreme  penalty  of 
the  law  ?  He  turned  and  looked  around  on  the  crowd 
and  said  mildly,  "  I  have  nothing  to  say,  except  that 
I  hope  all  of  you,  my  friends,  who  came  to  see  this 
sight,  when  your  time  comes  to  die,  may  be  as  ready 
to  meet  your  God  as  /  am.  I  die  innocent."  In 
less  than  a  minute  after  these  words  were  uttered,  his 
body  was  hanging  a  lifeless  corpse,  and  the  people 
were  returning  to  their  homes,  wondering  how  any 
man — particularly  a  minister  of  the  gospel — could  be 
so  hardened  as  to  die  with  a  lie  upon  his  lips ;  for 
probably  not  one  in  that  large  crowd  gave  credit  to 
his  dying  words. 

Reader,  he  did  die  innocent !  Fourteen  years 
afterwards  a  negro  was  hung  in  Mississippi,  who  on 
the  gallows  confessed  that  he  committed  the  crime  for 
which  Mr.  Johnson  paid  the  terrible  penalty. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

OLD    SOL.'S    MESSAGE. 
Close  of  season — A  good  benefit — Message  to  the  Legislature. 

On  the  occasion  of  my  benefit — the  closing  night — 
I  issued  the  following  "Message,"  which  undoubtedly 
had  its  desired  effect,  for  the  house  was  crammed  in 
every  part : 

OLD  SOL.'S  MESSAGE. 

To  both,  Houses  of  the  Legislature. 

Gentlemen — As  we  are  about  closing  our  labors  in  the  Me- 
tropolis for  the  present  year — or  in  other  words,  as  our  Legislative 
and  Theatrical  Sessions  are  about  to  end,  I  think  it  my  duty  and 
interest  to  communicate  this  my  MESSAGE. 

I  thank  you  for  your  co-operation  in  many  instances,  but  I  am  of 
opinion  that  a  better  understanding  ought  to  be  had  next  year  on 
one  subject— that  is,  Night  Sessions.  I  recommend  that  you  here- 
after leave  them  to  me.  I  am  not  certain  whether  the  people's 
interests  would  be  promoted  by  adopting  my  views  on  this  subject, 
but  I  am  almost  certain  that  mine  would.  Several  times  during 
our  present  Session,  when  we  have  been  toiling  thro'  a  long  Tragedy 
or  Comedy  (to  the  bare  walls  and  empty  benches,)  and  I  have  seen 
the  Senate  and  Representative  Chambers  lit  up,  nothing  but  the 
great  respect  I  have  felt  and  do  feel  for  my  co-laborers  for  the 
public  weal,  has  prevented  me  from  exclaiming,  in  the  words  of 
the  immortal  bard,  "  a  plague  on  both  your  houses." 

I  have  the  honor  of  stating  to  you  that  the  receipts  the  current 
year  have  fallen  considerably  below  the  estimates,  but  with  a  strict 
economy,  and  a  guarded  examination  of  expenditures,  only  a  small 
appropriation  will  be  necessary  to  meet  all  emergencies. 

My  Night  Sessions  have  been  pretty  regularly  held.  A  great 
number  of  bills  have  been  reported,  (and  300  copies  ordered  to  be 
printed.)  many  of  which  have  been  approved  of.  but  some  of  which, 

(148) 


OLD    SOL.'S    MESSAGE.  149 

I  am  sorry  to  say,  have  not  been  acted  on,  in  consequence  of  there 
not  being  a  quorum  present  to  decide  upon  their  merits.  I  wish 
you  to  take  this  into  your  serious  consideration — that  while  you 
have  been  snugly  seated  in  your  houses,  discussing  the  merits  of 
nullification  and  railroads,  (sure  of  your  four  dollars  a  day,)  I 
have  frequently  been  under  the  necessity  of  ordering  many  bills  to 
lie  on  the  table,  because  there  was  no  money  in  the  treasury  not  other- 
wise  appropriated. 

As  all  the  members  of  our  house  have  had  their  claimt  allowed, 
it  only  remains  for  me  to  recommend  that  each  of  you  immediately 
pass  a  bill  (a  one  dollar  Central  Bank  bill)  for  the  benefit  of  OLD 
SOL. 

I  did  intend  to  say  something  on  other  matters  of  importance — 
such  as  the  U.  S.  Bank, — Donna  Maria  Gloria  of  Portugal,  Major 
Jack  Downing, — Col.  Crockett — the  Alabama  Question — the  late 
and  expected  nomination  for  Congress — &c.  &c.  &c. — but  my  time 
is  precious,  and  I  leave  to  your  imaginations  what  I  would  say  on 
each  and  all  of  these  subjects.  I  will  conclude  this  document  by 
saying  that  as  there  have  been  a  great  many  PARTIES,  lately,  I 
give  a  general  invitation  to  the  members  of  all  PARTIES  to  attend 
my  PARTY  this  evening ;  and  I  hope  the  measure  will  be  carried 
without  a  division. 

Given  under  my  hand  at  the  Executive  Office  of  the  Theatre, 
this  14th  day  of  December,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1833,  of  the 
Independence  of  U.  S.  the  68th,  and  of  my  management  in 
Georgia,  the  Second.  SOL.  SMITH. 


13 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

STOPPING    PLACES    IN    GEORGIA    AND    ALABAMA. 

Macon — A  challenge  from  an  enraged  Tragedian — A  premature 
explosion — The  "Old  Station  " — Captain  Crowell  and  his  "boy  " 
Peter — Prayer  and  Punch — Jumping  for  a  wife — Gen.  Wood- 
ward's extra  charge  for  Music — Accident  at  a  Quarter  Race  in 
the  Creek  Nation — The  unfortunate  Widow. 

.  Our  next  move  was  to  Macon,  where,  in  conse- 
quence of  bad  weather,  we  made  but  a  poor  season. 
I  remember  nothing  very  amusing  connected  with  my 
present  visit  to  this  city  except  the  following : 

During  Christmas  time  one  night,  our  heavy  tra- 
gedian got  "tight,"  and  kicked  up  "considerable  of  a 
muss  "  in  one  of  the  dressing-rooms,  ending  his  manceu- 
vers  by  attacking  one  of  the  employees  of  the  theatre 
and  inflicting  upon  him  many  blows,  cuffs  and  thumps. 
This  conduct  entitled  him,  under  our  rules  and  regu- 
lations,  to  an  instant  discharge,  which  he  instantly 
received ;  when,  taking  his  bundle  under  his  arm  and 
assuring  me  in  an  emphatic  manner  that  I  should 
"  hear  from  him,"  the  indignant  tragedian  went  off, 
and  the  play  went  on.  The  piece  was  "  Paul  Pry  at 
Dover,"  in  which  I  personated  the  inquisitive  Paul. 
Just  as  I  was  going  on  the  stage  in  the  third  act,  to 
be  shut  up  in  a  box  of  fireworks,  a  note  was  handed 
to  me  by  the  call-boy.  Not  having  leisure  to  read  it 
at  the  time,  I  put  it  in  my  vest  pocket,  and  proceeded 
with  my  part.  In  due  time  I  was  in  the  box,  where 
(having  a  lighted  candle  with  me)  it  was  my  business, 
(150) 


STOPPING  PLACES  IN  GEORGIA  AND  ALABAMA.    151 

at  a  certain  "  cue,"  to  set  fire  to  a  fuse  or  match  com- 
municating with  fireworks.  As  I  lay  there,  waiting 
for  my  cue,  the  note  I  had  received  occurred  to  my 
mind,  and  I  determined  to  read  it.  It  was  a  chal- 
lenge from  the  discharged  tragedian  !  I  hurst  into  a 
violent  laugh,  (I  couldn't  help  it,)  and  during  my 
cachinatory  movements,  I  upset  the  candle,  which 
communicated  to  the  fuse  before  the  proper  time,  and 
the  contemplated  "  terrible  explosion "  took  place 
prematurely. 

Moving  south-westwardly,  (I  forgot  to  say  there 
was  no  duel — the  challenge  was  withdrawn  next  day,) 
Montgomery,  in  Alabama,  was  our  next  destination 
— leaving  out  Columbus  this  time.  Of  the  various 
stopping  places,  when  journeying  from  town  to  town 
in  Georgia,  I  remember  none  with  more  pleasure  than 
the  "  Old  Station"— Capt.  Crowell's.  The  arrival  of 
our  company,  always  announced  by  an  avant  courier, 
was  the  cause  of  a  holiday  with  the  jolly  old  captain 
and  his  amiable  family.  Such  delicious  fare  as  we 
had  at  the  station  !  and  with  it,  always  such  a  hearty 
welcome!  Ah!  I  must  travel  through  that  country 
again — and  will,  if  my  life  is  spared  another  year. 

The  captain  had  a  boy  named  PETER  ;  rather  an 
old  boy — say  between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age — a 
negro,  in  whose  judgment  he  had  great  confidence. 
When  in  the  least  doubt  on  any  matter,  he  always 
appealed  to  Peter,  who  never  failed  to  give  his 
opinion  honestly,  bluntly  and  immediately.  Some- 
times the  traveling  community  crowded  on  him  in 
such  numbers  that  the  worthy  captain  found  it  diffi- 
cult, even  Avith  his  "ample  room  and  verge,"  to  ac- 
commodate the  late  coiners.    After  talking  the  matter 


152  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

over,  he  would  appeal  to  his  black  oracle.  "  It 
don't  seem  to  me  we  can  possibly  accommodate  any 
more ;  every  bed  is  engaged.  Peter,  what  do  you 
think  ?"  "  Put  'em  on  blankets  by  the  fire,"  Peter 
would  suggest,  if  favorably  inclined  to  the  travelers  ; 
if  otherwise,  his  answer  would  probably  be — "  Can't 
take  in  anudder  one;"  and  the  captain  always 
confirmed  Peter's  decision,  exclaiming,  "  Peter  is 
right." 

It  so  happened  on  one  occasion,  when  we  were  so- 
journers with  Captain  Crowell,  that  a  traveling 
preacher  came  along  rather  late  in  the  evening,  and 
applied  for  accommodation. 

"Don't  believe  we  can  take  you  in,  stranger; 
mighty  full  to-night — got  the  play  actors  here — jolly 
set !  full,  jam  up  !"  said  the  captain. 

"  I  regret  exceedingly  that  you  cannot  accomodate 
me,  as  I  am  fatigued  and  hungry,  having  been  in  the 
saddle  since  sunrise,"  mildly  replied  the  preacher,  as 
he  turned  his  horse's  head  to  pursue  his  journey. 

The  captain  relented  a  little.  "  Fatigued  and  hun- 
gry !  The  devil !  It  won't  do  to  turn  a  man  off  fa- 
tigued and  hungry, — what  do  you  say,  Peter  ?" 

Peter,  who  had  been  waiting  for  the  question,  answer- 
ed,— "Better  call  um  back," — which  was  instantly 
done. 

"  Holloo  !  Stranger  !  Holloo !  you  with  the  saddle- 
bags !  Come  back  and  'light — we'll  see  what  we  can 
do  for  you." 

The  preacher  did  not  wait  for  a  second  invitation, 
but  returned  and  dismounted. 

"/don't  like  preachers  much — nor  Peter  either; 
but  mother  and  the  girls  have  no  objections  to  'em," 


STOPPING  PLACES  IN  GEORGIA  AND  ALBABAMA.    153 

mumbled  the  captain  as  he  took  the  saddle-bags  and 
put  them  safely  away.  "  I'll  be  dot  darned  if  I  know 
what  to  do  with  him,  though — everything  is  full. 
What  do  you  say,  Peter  ? 

"Put  him  in  de  bar,"  answered  Peter,  and  it  was 
so  arranged.  "  Peter  is  right !"  exclaimed  the  cap- 
tain. 

After  supper,  the  preacher  proposed  that  we  should 
have  family  worship,  saying  that  Mrs.  Crowell  and  the 
young  ladies  had  accorded  their  consent  to  such  a 
proceeding.  The  captain  was  taken  completely  aback. 
The  truth  is,  he  had  ordered  Peter  to  make  a  tremen- 
dous bowl  of  punch,  and  had  calculated  on  passing  the 
evening  in  a  jolly  and  convivial  way.  The  proposed 
"family  worship"  didn't  seem  exactly  compatible ;  yet 
he  disliked  to  refuse,  as  the  females  seemed  to  favor  it. 

"  Well,  stranger,"  said  be,  "  I  don't  know  what  to 
think  about  this  here  business.  I  didn't  expect,  when 
we  took  you  in,  that  you  would  knock  up  our  fun ; 
that  is,  I  didn't  exactly  look  for  you  to  go  in  for  any 
of  your  preachin'  fixins ;  the  fact  is,  we  have  company 
to-night,  (lowering  his  voice,)  who  ain't  much  used  to 
that  sort  of  thing ;  in  short — What  do  you  say,  Peter  ?" 

"Let  him  go  it,"  replied  Peter  at  once,  knowing 
that  it  would  gratify  his  mistress. 

So  the  travelers  and  family  were  gathered  together 
in  the  bar-room,  and  the  worthy  Presbyterian  com- 
menced one  of  those  extensively  long  prayers  which 
appear  to  have  no  end,  and  in  which  the  Almighty  is 
told  ivhat  to  do  with  his  creatures  in  all  their  varied 
walks  of  life.  The  captain  stood  it  pretty  well  for  the 
first  quarter  of  an  hour,  but  after  a  while  he  began  to 
get  mighty  uneasy.     Looking  first  one  way  and  then 

1  i* 


154  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

another,  his  eye  at  length  rested  on  Peter,  who  was 
standing  on  the  outside  of  the  door,  bearing  in  his  arms 
a  large  bowl.  He  had  been  tempted  several  times  to 
stop  the  clergyman,  but  now  he  determined  to  submit 
the  matter  to  an  umpire  that  never  failed  to  decide 
correctly — accordingly,  in  a  loud  whisper,  he  propound- 
ed the  question — "  What  do  you  say,  Peter?" 

"  Better  quit  it,"  was  the  decision  of  Peter,  who  al- 
most immediately  added — "Punch  is  ready." 

The  captain  gave  a  gentle  jog  to  the  long-winded 
Presbyterian,  and  said — "Peter  thinks  we'd  better 
bring  this  matter  to  an  end.  We've  got  a  splendid 
bowl  of  punch  ;  and  as  soon  as  you  can  conveniently 
come  to  '  Amen,'  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  wind 
up. 

The  minister  did  "  wind  up"  rather  suddenly,  and 
the  "family  worship  "  was  over  for  that  night.  I  feel 
compelled  to  add  that  the  preacher,  after  a  little  urg- 
ing, drank  his  full  share  of  the  punch,  and  the  evening 
passed  off  pleasantly,  ending  with  the  stowing  away  of 
the  worthy  divine  in  the  little  room  known  as  the 
"  bar,"  where  he  rested  as  well,  probably,  as  he  would 
have  done  in  the  best  bed-room — his  long  ride  in  a 
drizzling  rain,  assisted  by  the  comforting  contents  of 
Peter's  punch  bowl,  predisposing  him  to  a  sound  sleep. 

It  had  been  told  me  for  a  fact  that  Capt.  Crowell 
had  said  no  man  should  marry  his  daughter  who  could 
not  out-jump  her.  At  the  time  I  traveled  in  that 
country,  it  was  said  she  had  out-jumped  all  the  young 
men  who  had  come  to  woo  her;  but  the  captain  felt 
pretty  certain  that  when  the  right  one  should  come  she 
wouldn't  jump  so  well.  More  than  likely,  long  before 
this  time  she  has  been  "Avon  and  wed." 


STOPPING  PLACES  IN  GEORGIA  AND  ALABAMA.    155 


Another  famous  stopping  place  was  Gen.  Wood- 
ward's, at  Caleba  Swamp.  The  general  was  a  tall,  no- 
ble looking  fellow,  a  rough  likeness  of  George  Barrett. 
He  always  gave  us  a  hearty  welcome,  and  many  a 
pleasant  night  I  have  spent  at  his  house.  A  most  ec- 
centric man  he  was.  A  preacher  putting  up  at  his 
house  one  night,  complained  of  being  disturbed  by  a 
fiddler  who  kept  playing  till  midnight.  (The  "  fiddler  " 
was  the  general  himself.)  Next  morning,  as  the  tra- 
velers came  up  to  settle  their  several  bills,  each  was 
charged  a  dollar,  except  the  preacher,  of  whom  a  dol- 
lar and  a  quarter  was  demanded. 

"  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  inform  me  why  it  is 
you  charge  me  more  than  the  others  ?"  asked  the 
preacher. 

"Sartin,"  replied  the  general — "the  extra  quarter 
I  charge  you  for — the  music." 

It  was  General  Woodward  who,  during  the  Indian 
troubles,  sent  a  formal  offer  to  the  War  Department 
that  for  $500  he  would  take  as  many  rocks  as  he  could 
carry  in  his  pocket,  and  stone  the  Creeks  out  of  the 
Nation. 

Between  Caleba  Swamp  and  Line  Creek,  in  the  "  Na- 
tion," we  saw  considerable  of  a  crowd  gathered  near  a 
drinking  house,  most  of  them  seated  and  smoking. 
We  stopped  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  It  was  Sun- 
day, and  there  had  been  a  quarter  race  for  a  gallon 
of  whiskey.  The  first  thing  I  noticed  on  alighting, 
was  the  singular  position  of  one  of  the  horses  of  the 
party.  He  was  kneeling  down  and  standing  on  his 
hinder  feet,  his  head  wedged  in  between  the  ends  ot 
two  logs  of  the  grocery,  and  he  was  stone  dead,  hav- 
ing evidently  run  directly  against  the  building  at  full 


156  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

Bpeed,  causing  the  house  partially  to  fall.  About  five 
paces  from  the  body  of  the  horse  lay  the  rider,  quite 
senseless,  with  a  gash  in  his  throat  which  might  have 
let  out  a  thousand  lives.  As  I  said,  most  of  the  crowd 
were  seated  and  smoking. 

"  What  is  all  this?"  I  inquired.  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter here  ?" 

"  Matter?"  after  a  while  answered  one  in  a  drawl- 
ing voice,  giving  a  good  spit,  and  refilling  his  mouth 
with  a  new  cud.  "  Matter  enough ;  there's  been  a 
quarter  race." 

"But  how  came  this  man  and  horse  killed?"  I 
asked. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  chewing  and  spitting  gentle- 
man— "  the  man  was  considerably  in  liquor,  I  reckon, 
and  he  run  his  hoss  chuck  agin  the  house,  and  that's 
the  whole  on  it." 

"  Has  a  doctor  been  sent  for  ?"  inquired  one  of  our 
party. 

"  I  reckon  there  ain't  much  use  of  doctors  here," 
replied  another  of  the  crowd.  "  Burnt  brandy  couldn't 
save  either  of  'em,  man  or  hoss." 

"  Has  this  man  a  wife  and  children  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  No  children,  that  I  knows  on,"  answered  a  female, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  ground  a  short  distance  from 
the  dead  man,  smoking  composedly. 

"He  has  a  wife,  then  ?"  I  remarked.  "  What  will 
be  her  feelings  when  she  learns  the  fatal  termination 
of  this  most  unfortunate  race  ?" 

"  Yes,"  sighed  the  female — "  it  was  an  unfortunate 
race — poor  man,  he  lost  the  whiskey." 

"Do  you  happen  to  know  his  wife  ? — has  she  been 


UNFORTUNATE    RESULT    OF    A    QUARTER   RACE.    157 

informed  of  the  untimely  death  of  her  husband  ?" 
were  my  next  inquiries. 

"  Do  I  know  her  ?  Has  she  been  informed  of  his 
death  ?"  said  the  woman.  "  Well,  I  reckon  you  ain't 
acquainted  about  these  parts.  I  am  the  unfortunate 
widder." 

"  You,  madam  !  You  the  wife  of  this  man  who 
has  been  so  untimely  cut  off?"  I  exclaimed,  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"  Yes,  and  what  about  it?"  said  she.  "Untimely 
cut  off?  His  throat's  cut,  that's  all,  by  that  'tarnal 
sharp  end  of  a  log  ;  and  as  for  its  being  untimely,  I 
don't  know  but  it's  as  well  now  as  any  time — he  warn  t 
of  much  account,  no  how  !" 

She  resumed  her  smoking,  and  we  resumed  our 
journey. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 


GEORGE  HOLLAND,  THE  COMEDIAN. 


A  very  short  chapter,  and  not  much  in  it. 

The  season  in  Montgomery,  this  year,  (1834,) 
commenced  on  the  16th  of  January.  The  celebrated 
George  Holland  joined  me  in  the  management,  and 
the  firm  was  "  Smith  &  Holland." 

George  Holland  came  to  this  country  under  an  en- 
gagement for  three  years  at  the  Bowery  Theatre. 
After  performing  in  that  establishment  for  a  short 
time,  he  received  so  many  offers  of  starring  engage- 
ments, that  he  bought  himself  out,  and  started  on  a 
tour  through  the  states,  making  money  at  every  step. 
In  a  year  or  two  he  accumulated  sufficient  means  to 
purchase  a  cottage  at  Harlem,  near  New  York. 
Being  fond  of  domestic  comforts,  he  fitted  up  his 
place  in  the  most  tasteful  manner — improved  his 
grounds — had  a  boat — kept  his  gig  and  fast  trotting 
poney,  and  was  really  in  a  little  earthly  paradise. 
Being  a  very  popular  comedian  in  New  York,  and  his 
cottage  being  always  open  to  his  friends,  he  had  con- 
siderable company,  who  delighted  in  his  society,  his 
jokes,  his  dinners  and  his  champagne.  He  lived  thus 
for  about  two  years ;  when  some  "  d — d  good  natured 
friends"  persuaded  him  to  fit  up  his  place  as  a  house 
of  entertainment.  He  followed  the  advice — expended 
a  large  sum  in  preparing  his  premises  for  the  recep- 
tion of  company,  and was  ruined  !     Those  friends 

(158) 


GEORGE  HOLLAND,  THE  COMEDIAN..      159 

who  could  find  time  to  pass  days  at  his  cottage  when 
it  cost  nothing,  now  found  that  their  business  in  town 
suffered  during  their  absence  ;  the  wine  which  was 
drank  with  such  gout  before,  was  now  discovered  to 
be  of  the  same  kind  as  that  kept  at  Niblo's  in  the 
city ;  the  ice  cream,  ice  punches  and  strawberries, 
could  be  got  in  New  York,  and  the  expense  of  the 
ride  saved  ;  the  few  who  did  visit  the  cottage,  found 
that  Holland,  the  hospitable  host  of  invited  guests, 
was  a  different  person  from  Holland  the  landlord — 
and  though  he  had  been  always  ready  with  his  joke 
and  repartee  when  entertaining  friends  at  his  own  ex- 
pense, his  feelings  shrank  from  giving  an  expected 
anecdote  with  a  glass  of  cream,  or  a  bon  mot  with  a 
bowl  of  punch.  The  speculation  failed,  and  George 
Holland  was  compelled  to  go  out  into  the  world 
again. 

The  veteran  Cooper,  Mr.  Barton,  and  Mr.  Holland, 
made  a  professional  tour — giving  entertainments  in 
all  the  principal  towns  from  Baltimore  to  New  Or- 
leans. The  anecdotes  which  might  be  related  of  this 
trip  would  fill  a  small  volume.  George  gave  loose  to 
his  love  of  fun,  and  the  two  tragedians  were  obliged 
to  "  stand  it." 

My  business  connection  with  George  Holland  was 
a  very  pleasant  one.  We  parted  at  the  close  of  the 
season  with  mutual  good  feelings,  and  he  proceeded 
to  New  Orleans,  where  he  soon  became  the  principal 
clerk  of  James  IT.  Caldwell,  about  that  time  exten- 
sively engaged  in  starting  his  gas  company.  In 
after  years  we  were  thrown  into  antagonistic  interests, 
but  not  for  a  moment  did  either  of  us  entertain  any 
but  the  most  friendly  feeling  towards   the   other.     In 


160  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 


prosperity  and  adversity  he  adhered  to  the  fortunes 
and  misfortunes  of  Mr.  Caldwell,  until  1843,  when 
that  gentleman  bade  adieu  to  theatrical  management. 
For  a  few  months  Mr.  Holland  traveled  with  Dr. 
Lardner,  as  his  agent  and  manager  ;  and  then  attached 
himself  to  the  Little  Olympic,  under  manager  Mitchell, 
where  he  reminded  seven  years,  as  great  a  favorite  as 
New  York  ever  knew.  On  the  retirement  of  Mitchell 
from  the  management,  in  1849,  Holland  accepted  an 
engagement  offered  him  by  Mr.  Thomas  Placide,  man- 
ager of  the  "Varieties,"  New  Orleans,  where  he  en- 
joys a  popularity  never  perhaps  achieved  by  any 
other  actor  in  the  city.  The  summers  of  Mr.  Holland 
are  spent  here  in  St.  Louis,  where  he  is  deservedly 
esteemed  both  as  an  actor  and  a  man.  But  to  return 
to  our  narrative. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  our  Montgomery  stars  : 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Barrett,  Mr.  George  Hill,  and 
Miss  Jane  Placide.  The  season  was  a  moderately 
good  one,  and  closed  on  the  26th  of  April. 

Many — many  anecdotes  occur  to  my  mind  con- 
nected with  this  season.  I  am  tempted  to  tell  of  a 
certain  champagne  party,  which  terminated  in  a  very 
tall  individual  going  to  bed  with  his  boots  on  ;  but  I 
forbear,  out  of  the  great  respect  and  good  feeling 
I  entertain  for  a  certain  personage,  well  known  in 
theatrical  circles  by  the  nickname  of  "Gentleman 
George."  He  will  understand  all  about  it.  Here  I 
wind  up  the  very  brief  outline  of  ray  journey-work  in 
the  campaign  of  1833—4. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MY   LAST   TRAVELING    CAMPAIGN. 

New  Organization — List  of  Company — Journeying  over  old  Ground 
— Losing  Season  in  Augusta — Breach  of  the  Rules  and  Regula- 
tions— A  Manager  for  a  Minute — Judging  one's  own  case — The 
Golden  Rule. 

A  NEW  organization  of  my  forces  was  absolutely 
necessary.  The  past  year's  company  was  anything 
but  one  to  be  proud  of.  Falstaff  refused  to  "  march 
through  Coventry"  with  his  company — /  was  de- 
termined I  would  no  longer  march  through  Georgia 
and  Alabama  with  mine ;  so  repairing  to  New 
Orleans,  the  word  was  passed  around  that  "  recruits" 
were  wanted  for  my  last  traveling  campaign  ;  and  a 
very  short  time  sufficed  to  fill  the  list,  which  is  here 
annexed : 

Mrs.  Sol.  Smith,  Mrs.  Gay,  Mrs.  Sullivan,  Mrs. 
McDonald;  Messrs.  J.  M.  Field,  Spencer,  C.  W. 
Hunt,  Langton,  Gay,  Washburn,  Sullivan,  Decius 
Rice,  Flagg  and  Rutherford.  Leader  of  the  Or- 
chestra, II.  C.  Walsh. 

I  note  here  the  decease  of  Mr.  J.  Purdy  Brown, 
manager  of  the  Mobile  Theatre,  on  the  7th  June, 
1834,  after  an  illness  of  only  a  few  hours,  caused,  as 
it  is  supposed,  by  eating  crabs  for  supper  at  a  late 
hour. 

Conceiving  that  too  many  details  of  the  business 
must  tire  the  reader,   (it  certainly  tires  me  to  write 

14  (161) 


162  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

them,)  I  will  confine  myself  to   a  very  brief  compen- 
dium of  our  proceedings  during  this  year. 

The  company  was  certainly  better,  by  several 
degrees,  than  any  which  had  preceded  it  in  the 
circuit  ;  but  the  receipts  fell  far  below  those  of 
previous  seasons. 

At  Montgomery,  to  begin  with,  we  played  two 
weeks ;  at  Columbus  four ;  Macon  six ;  and  then 
proceeded  to  Augusta,  at  the  earnest  request  of 
many  of  the  most  respectable  citizens. 

Here  I  leased  the  theatre  for  one  year,  and  occu- 
pied it  one  month,  losing  in  that  month  $1,000. 
The  rent  ($1,000)  was  secured  by  a  mortgage  on  a 
lot  in  Macon,  which  was  eventually  sold  to  pay  the 
same.  Two  years  afterwards  that  lot  was  worth 
$11,000!  So  my  month's  management  in  Augusta 
was  anything  but  profitable. 

Charles  W.  Hunt  was  a  member  of  my  company 
at  the  time.  He  was  then  a  promising  young  actor, 
aspiring  to  establish  himself  as  a  low  comedian  ;  but 
young  as  he  was,  and  modest,  1  think  the  reader  will 
agree  with  me,  when  he  reads  what  follows,  that  he 
exhibited  a  degree  of  coolness  under  difficulties, 
worthy  of  an  experienced  veteran. 

On  the  very  first  night  of  the  season,  this  Hunt 
got  into  a  difficulty  with  a  Mr.  Sullivan,  a  fiery, 
trodden-down  young  tragedian.  A  fight  ensued, 
which  ended  in  the  breaking  of  poor  Hunt's  arm.  A 
fight  behind  the  scenes  being  a  most  unusual  occur- 
rence, in  any  well-regulated  theatre,  is  always  visited 
upon  the  party  who  is  in  the  wrong,  by  the  utmost 
rigor  of  the  "rules  and  regulations;"  either  an  im- 
mediate discharge,  or  a  heavy  penalty  in  the  way  of 


MY   LAST   TRAVELING    CAMPAIGN.  163 


stoppage  of  salary,  must  be  submitted  to  by  the 
offender.  Hunt  stood  in  this  predicament.  He  had 
brought  the  misfortune  upon  himself,  and  in  an  apolo- 
getic letter  the  next  morning,  he  acknowledged  his 
fault  to  the  fullest  extent ;  but  inasmuch  as  he  was 
suffering  for  his  indiscretion,  and  would  be  prevented, 
at  least  for  several  weeks,  from  appearing  on  the 
boards,  my  mind  was  made  up  at  once  to  treat  him 
with  great  leniency ;  in  fact,  I  determined  to  say 
nothing  at  all  about  the  affair,  and  permit  him  to 
rejoin  the  company  whenever  his  arm  should  be 
healed. 

The  season  closed — so  did  the  broken  bone  of 
Hunt's  arm.  The  treasury  was  opened  for  the  pay- 
ment of  salaries  for  the  final  week  in  Augusta.  As 
was  my  custom  at  that  time,  I  attended  personally  to 
this  ceremony.  Piles  of  silver  and  bank  notes  were 
laid  out  before  me  on  a  table  in  the  director's  room — 
the  receipt  book  was  ready,  and  the  clerk  was  directed 
to  admit  the  performers,  "  one  by  one"  to  receive 
their  salaries.  The  door  was  opened,  and  the  first 
individual  that  appeared,  was  the  broken-armed 
comedian,  Hunt ! 

"Ah!  is  that  you,  Mr.  Hunt?  Good  morning" — 
thus  I  greeted  him  ;  "  glad  to  see  you  out ;  arm  quite 
well  ?"  I  asked. 

"Thank  you,  yes,"  he  replied,  taking  a  chair 
-which  I  pointed  to.  "  I  have  suffered  greatly  for  my 
folly,"  he  continued— "only  catch  me  getting  into  a 
fight  again,  that's  all  !" 

"That's  the  right  feeling,  Mr.  Hunt,"  I  re- 
marked. "  Such  scenes  are  disreputable  in  every  way. 
Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you." 


164  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

"It  shall,  most  assuredly,"  promised  the  repentant 
comedian.  The  conversation  here  ceased,  and  I 
began  to  count  over  a  "  ten"  pile,  in  hopes  my 
visitor  would  take  his  leave  and  permit  the  payment 
of  salaries  to  proceed,  as  I  was  in  haste,  intending  to 
leave  the  city  for  Milledgeville  the  same  afternoon. 
Finding  the  comedian  did  not  exhibit  the  least  sign 
of  departure,  after  a  few  common-place  observations 
respecting  the  fine  weather  for  travelling,  I  ventured 
courteously  to  suggest  that  I  should  be  happy  to  see 
him  some  other  time,  it  being  "salary  day,"  and  a 
busy  one  for  me — the  people  waiting 

"  Ye — es,"  replied  Hunt — "  salary  day — that's  just 
the  reason  I  came  in  at  this  very  time.  My  salary 
has  been  lying  in  the  treasury  during  the  whole 
season  of  four  weeks  ;  and  as  we  leave  this  afternoon, 
why  I  thought" 

"  Your  salary,  Mr.  Hunt !"  I  exclaimed,  with 
some  surprise — "I  was  not  aware  there  was  anything 
due  you.  If  my  memory  serves  me,  everything  was 
settled  at  the  close  of  the  season  in  Macon." 

"Decidedly,"  admitted  Hunt;  "everything  was 
paid  up — fair  and  square ;  but  it  is  this  season's 
salary  I  speak  of,  and  which  I  have  called  to  receive." 

"My  dear  sir,"  I  remonstrated — "you  don't 
imagine,  I  hope,  that  you  are  entitled  to  salary 
during  the  time  you  have  rendered  no  service  ?  Your 
hurt  was  not  received  in  the  performance  of  your 
professional  duties — on  the  contrary  you  received  it 
whilst  engaged  in  a  most  unpardonable  breach  of  the 
rules  and  regulations,  which  not  only  subjects  you 
to  a  heavy  fine,  but  renders  you  liable  to  an  instant 


A    MANAGER    FOB    A    MINUTE.  1  Go 

discharge,  as  you  know  and  have  admitted;  and 
now" 

"  That  is  all  .  true,"  interrupted  Mr.  Hunt, 
"  but" 

"Hear  me  through,"  I  continued;  "and  now, 
instead  of  coming  to  ask  leave  to  rejoin  the  company 
at  Milledgeville,  and  perhaps  ask  a  loan  of  a  small 
sura,  which  very  likely  would  not  be  refused,  under 
the  circumstances,  it  appears  you  intend  to  set  up  a 
claim  for  salary  during  your  confinement.  Am  I 
right  in  supposing  such  to  be  your  intention?" 

"  Most  indubitably  you  are,"  was  my  friend  Hunt's 
reply — "that  is,"  he  continued — "so  far  as  my 
claiming  something  in  the  way  of  salary,  you  are 
right.  I  do  think  you  ought  to  allow  me  at  least  a 
fortiori  of  the  amount  which  would  now  be  my  due, 
had  not  this  untoward  accident  happened.  Gentle- 
men of  the  army  receive  half -pay  when  they  are 
wounded  or  retire  from  service.  What  say  you  ? 
Let  us  compromise  this  matter — give  me  half  salary 
for  the  four  weeks,  and  we'll  have  no  more  words 
about  it." 

The  coolness  of  this  proposition  almost  upset  my 
temper.  The  rules  and  regulations  which  he  had 
agreed  to  and  signed,  stipulated  that  "no  salary 
should  be  received  during  sickness,  or  when  no  ser- 
vices were  tendered;"  and  although  I  had  always 
been  in  the  habit  of  making  some  allowance  in  cases 
where  performers  received  an  injury  while  in  the 
exercise  of  their  duties  in  the  theatre,  I  could  nut  sco 
the  least  reason  why  the  treasury  should  be  taxed  in 
a  case  like  this,  where  there  had  been  a  decided 
breach  of  the  rules,  and  where  the  fault  was  acknow- 

14* 


166  THEATRICAL    JOURNEY-WORK. 

ledged  to  be  on  the  side  of  the  party  now  claiming 
salary. 

"  I  cannot  admit  this  claim,"  I  said,  firmly.  "  I 
intended  to  reinstate  you  in  your  situation  at  the 
next  town,  considering  that  your  sufferings  had  atoned 
for  your  fault ;  moreover  I  now  profess  myself  ready 
to  loan  you  some  money,  if  you  stand  in  need  of  it, 
to  enable  you  to  settle  up  your  bills  here  and  travel 
to  Milledgeville.     This  is  all  I  can  or  will  do." 

"  Then  I  consider  you  act  unjustly,"  replied  Hunt, 
surlily,  rising  and  taking  his  hat.  "  Here  have  I 
been  suffering  for  a  month,  confined  to  my  room, 
earning  nothing,  subjected  to  expenses  of  boarding, 
washing  and  surgical  attendance,  and  now  to  be 
fobbed  off  without  any  salary  for  four  weeks — really 
it  is  too" 

"Fobbed  off?"  I  rejoined — "fobbed,  sir?  Is  it 
not  enough  that  I  should  be  deprived  of  your  services 
during  the  whole  of  the  season — must  I  now  be  ac- 
cused of  acting  unjustly  because  I  do  not  entertain 
your  absurd  claim,  and  pay  you  for  your  improper 
conduct?" 

The  discussion  was  waxing  warm,  and  there  ap- 
peared to  be  no  chance  of  coming  to  an  understand- 
ing ;  the  company  were  all  waiting  in  the  next  room 
for  their  salaries.  I  became  impatient,  and  at  length 
proposed  that  we  should  call  in  two  or  three  members 
of  the  company  as  arbitrators  ;  but  to  this  Hunt  ob- 
jected, saying  that  he  thought  he  was  capable  of  at- 
tending to  his  own  affairs,  and  that  he  would  not  give 
up  his  own  judgment  for  that  of  any  person  living  ! 

"  Well,  then,"  I  replied— "  to  your  judgment  and 
tense  of  justice  I  will  submit  the  matter.      Here,  take 


JUDGING    ONE'S    CT.YN    CASE.  Ifi7 

this  seat.  You  shall  be  the  manager — /  the  actor. 
You  shall  be  judge  in  your  own  case." 

Mr.  Hunt  very  readily  took  possession  of  the 
vacated  chair,  graciously  remarking  that  my  propo- 
sition convinced  him  that  I  was  indeed  the  upright 
and  just  man  he.  had  always  taken  me  to  be.  I  felt 
quite  confident  that  he  would  view  the  matter  in  a 
proper  light,  when  he  came  to  see  it  in  all  its  proper 
bearings. 

Taking  Hunt's  late  position  in  front  of  the  table — 

"Mr.  Manager,"  I  began,  "the  season  being 
ended,  I  have  come  to  request  that  the  outrage  I  com- 
mitted on  the  first  night,  and  which  has  laid  me  up 
for  a  month,  may  not  be  in  the  way  of  my  restoration 
to  the  company,  inasmuch  as  I  have  suffered  greatly 
from  the  serious  hurt  I  received  on  that  unfortunate 
occasion." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  manager  Hunt,  with  a  digni- 
fied wave  of  the  hand,  "  that  is  all  understood  ;  join 
us  at  Milledgeville,  and  let  us  have  no  more  such 
scenes — they  are  disgraceful  in  the  extreme.  What 
more  ( 

"Well,  sir,"  continued  I,  still  in  the  character  of 
the  suppliant  invalid,  "  perhaps  as  I  have  been  so 
great  a  sufferer,  you  may  not  think  it  unreasonable 
that  I  should  ask  some  pecuniary  accommodation  ?" 

"  It  is  but  reasonable,"  replied  the  manager  pro 
tern.,  promptly  ;  "  that  matter  has  been  thought  of. 
Have  you  no  other  request  to  make'!"'  he  inquired, 
turning  round  in  the  chair  and  taking  up  a  pen. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  hesitatingly,  "  I  have  been  think- 
ing— though  really  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  mention 
it — that  possibly  you  might  allow  me  half  pay  during 


168  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


my  confinement ;  in  short,  as  it  is  a  delicate  matter, 
I  leave  it  entirely  to  your  own  sense  of  justice  to  de- 
cide whether  I  shall  receive  anything  from  the  trea- 
sury or  not." 

"  Ahem  !  yes,  I  understand,"  said  my  locum  tenens, 
casting  a  cursory  glance  over  a  copy  of  the  rules  and 
regulations  which  happened  to  lay  before  him,  rivet- 
ing his  eye  for  a  moment  at  the  particular  section 
which  had  been  violated,  and  uttering  two  or  three 
emphatic  "  hems,"  he  then  proceeded  slowly  to  pro- 
nounce judgment  in  the  case,  as  follows  : 

"  Young  man,  you  have  done  very  wrong — very 
wrong  indeed — but  on  the  other  hand,  you  have 
suffered  very  much — I  am  fully  sensible  how  much  ; 
therefore  we  will  let  that  pass.  The  offence  has  car- 
vied  its  own  punishment  with  it.  I  have  already  told 
you  that  you  are  restored  to  your  situation.  In  re- 
gard to  your  application  for  pecuniary  assistance,  I 
scarcely  know  what  to  say.  You  speak  of  half  pay. 
This,  I  am  disposed  to  believe,  would  scarcely  reach 
your  merits — certainly  not  your  necessities.  ¥.our 
rapid  improvement  in  your  profession  has  not  been 
unnoticed  by  the  management ;  your  conduct,  with 
the  single  exception  of  the  case  under  consideration, 
has  been  most  exemplary  ;  your  salary  is  not  large — 
and  in  this  connection  I  may  say  a  small  addition  to 
your  weekly  income  has  been  thought  of;  but  the 
season  has  been  so  unpropitious  that  this  is  not  the 
proper  time  to  carry  out  my  intentions  concerning 
y0U — therefore,  taking  every  point  into  consideration, 
and  acting  upon  the  principle  of  returning  good  for 
evil,  which,  as  a  good  Christian,  I  feel  impelled  to  do 
— THERE  !'"  (with  great  composure  selecting  six  of  the 


THE   GOLDEN    RULE.  1C9 

ten-dollar  piles  before  him,  and  magnanimously  push- 
ing them,  one  by  one,  across  the  table,)  "  there,  my 
boy,  is  the  whole  of  your  salary,  to  date — sign 

the  receipt." 

***** 

The  judgment  was  of  course  affirmed,  when  I  re- 
sumed the  managerial  chair.  Hunt  pocketed  his 
sixty  dollars,  and  retired  perfectly  satisfied  with  bis 
brief  term  of  management,  and  I  proceeded  with  the 
payment  of  salaries  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
had  been  kept  waiting  by  the  enactment  of  this  singu- 
lar scene.  Hunt  afterwards  justified  his  proceeding, 
by  saying  he  acted  on  the  golden  rule — "  Do  unto 
others  as  you  would  they  should  do  unto  you." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

ANOTHER  MESSAGE,  AND  THE  LAST. 
Last  Season  in  Milledgeville — Final  Message  to  the  Legislature. 

At  Milledgeville,  during  the  session  of  the  legis- 
lature, we  made  a  moderately  successful  season  of 
seven  weeks.  I  insert  my  benefit  message,  although 
it  must  be  allowed  "  it  took"  better  nineteen  years 
ago  than  it  possibly  can  now.  Its  effect  at  the  time 
may  be  judged  of  by  the  fact  that  every  member  of 
the  legislature  made  it  a  point  to  attend  my  benefit, 
or  send  his  dollar. 

OLD  SOL.'S  MESSAGE, 
To  both  Houses  of  the  Georgia  Legislature. 

Gentlemen: — As  the  curtain  is  about  to  fall  on  our  legislative  and 
theatrical  labors,  it  again  becomes  my  duty  to  address  you,  before 
■we  both  depart  from  the  scenes  of  our  official  acts. 

In  your  two  houses  may  be  found  almost  as  great  a  variety  as  is 
seen  in  our  house.  You  cannot  be  lacking  in  wisdom,  for  you 
have  a  Solomon  and  a  Daniel.  No  one  can  doubt  your  ability  to 
do  your  work  well,  for  you  are  well  provided  with  mechanics ;  for 
instance  you  have  a  Taylor,  2  Bakers,  a  Wright,  3  Smiths,  a  Cooper, 
and  a  Chandler.  You  have  sent  away  to  Washington,  a  King,  to  do 
•what  formerly  required  a  Troup  to  perform.  Yet  you  retain  one 
King  among  you,  and  a  Prince  writes  down  your  doings.  You 
have  a  Hall,  and  there  you  sit,  Day  and  (K)mght,  (and  sometimes 
Morrow,)  surrounded  by  Bush,  Woods,  Groves,  Graves,  Fields  and 
Rivers;  and  not  content  with  what  you  can  procure  from  your  own 
IIo(l)mes,  you  have  a  Jlolland-er,  two  Moor(e)s,  (besides  a  Moor-ish. 
stenographer,)  and  one  yet  Wilder!  Though  there  are  no  buyers 
among  you,  I  am  told  that  you  have  had  plenty  of  Sellers.  You 
have  no  riders,  but  can  boast  of  two  excellent  Walkers.     You  have 

(170) 


ANOTHER   MESSAGE,  AND  THE  LAST.  171 

a  Hard(e)man  from  Oglethorpe,  a  Hardman  from  Jasper,  and  a 
Little  doctor  from  Wilkinson.  Two  of  your  number  will  never  be 
too  old  for  members,  for  they  are  sure  to  remain  Young  alwaya. 
One  member,  (without  deserving  to  be  so,)  is  a  Butt  of  the  Senate, 
and  another,  tho'  really  a  brave  man,  bears  the  name  of  a  Con-art. 
While  you  unfortunately  have  but  one  Free-man  among  you,  and 
but  one  who  is  Well-born. 

Notwithstanding  this  heterogenous  mass  of  which  your  honora- 
ble body  is  composed,  I  am  happy  to  say  your  proceedings  have 
mostly  met  my  approbation.  It  is  true  two  or  three  times  I  was 
tempted  to  let  off  a  Proclamation,  a  Veto,  or  a  Pkotest  at  you, 
(I  mean  when  you  was  about  to  "  use  up"  Judge  Hooper.)  but  per- 
haps "  'tis  better  as  it  is." 

Our  sister  State  of  South  Carolina,  I  am  glad  to  say,  has 
settled  her  domestic  difficulties,  by  each  party  agreeing  to  under- 
stand the  oath  of  allegiance  just  as  they  each  please,  which  agree- 
ment I  have  officially  ratified  ;  and  the  happy  effects  of  the  com- 
promise are  beginning  to  be  apparent  in  the  altered  tone  of  the 
newspapers. 

In  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey,  Ohio  and  other  states, 
elections  have  lately  been  held,  and  I  now  officially  state  to  you, 
that  in  almost  every  instance  those  candidates  who  had  a  majority 
of  votes  were  elected. 

A  Mr.  Thompson,  from  Great  Britain,  is  lecturing  in  Massachu- 
setts, against  slavery  ;  and  as  Xegro  slavery  does  not  exist  there, 
it  is  recommended  that  the  philanthropic  gentleman  be  invited  to 
visit  us  at  the  .south,  where  his  labors  would  be  properly  appre- 
ciated and  rewarded. 

The  U.  S.  Bank  seems  to  have  received  its  tinal  sentence,  and 
must  go  down  ;  but  to  break  its  fall,  and  in  a  spirit  of  good  feeling 
which  I  hope  will  always  characterize  men  in  high  official  stations, 
I  have  issued  a  circular  to  my  Box  Ofiires,  directing  that  its  bills 
and  drafts  be  received  in  all  payments  due  this  department. 

You  are  aware  that  before  we  again  meet  in  our  official  capacity, 
it  will  become  the  duty  of  our  constituents  to  choose  a  governor. 
I  have  not  made  op  mv  mind  whether  to  give  my  voice  fur  Groce  or 
Davis.  When  I  hear  from  Col.  Crockett  and  Mrs.  Royall  on  the 
Mihject,  you  shall  know. 

An  eclipse  of  the  sun  took  place  on  the  30th  ult.,  according  to 
announcement,  and  was  a  well  got  up  affair — the  moon  had  a  bit 
of  an  eclipse  also,  on  the  15th  iust.,  but  it  was  rather  a  failure. 


172  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY- AVOKK. 

Messrs.  Garrison  and  Tappan  seem  to  be  losing  ground  at  the 
north — it  is  recommended  that  they  travel  to  the  south  for  their 
health,  where  they  would  be  presented  with  some  essence  of  pine, 
which  abounds  in  this  region,  and  some  goose  feathers. 

Graves,  the  Indian  murderer,  (notwithstanding  Judge  Baldwin's 
citation,)  has  been  hung — Hogg  Smith,  ditto. 

From  foreign  powers  I  continue  to  receive  the  most  gratifying 
assurances  of  friendship,  which  it  is  our  interest  as  well  as  wish 
to  cultivate.  Since  my  last  message,  my  friend  Don  Pedro,  after 
driving  his  illustrious  brother,  Don  Miguel,  from  the  Portuguese 
throne,  and  placing  his  gracious  daughter,  Maria  de  Gloria,  on  it, 
has  "left  this  stage  of  fools" — but  before  he  made  his  final  exit, 
he  received  the  full  reward  of  his  "  long  enduring  toils" — a  most 
munificent  token  of  affection  from  his  royal  child — payment  in  full 
of  all  demands — the  order  of  fuldle-de-diddle-addleum  !  !  !  My 
young  friend  the  Queen  writes  me  that  the  gift,  bestowed  in  the 
very  nick  of  time,  (just  as  his  Imperial  Majesty  was  giving  his 
last  kick,)  made  the  Royal  Pedro  go  off  in  a  paroxysm  of  gratitude 
and  delight.  In  a  P.  S.  the  young  Queen  suggests  that  if  we  have 
any  kings  or  princes  here  who  can  trace  their  ancestry  a  few  gene- 
rations back  of  Noah,  she  has  no  objection  to  hear  from  them, 
previous  to  making  up  her  royal  mind  on  the  many  applications 
which  have  been  made  for  her  gracious  hand.  I  have  accordingly 
despatched  a  messenges  with  letters  to  Black  Hawk,  (who  seemed 
to  make  a  considerable  impression  on  the  Yankee  ladies  summer 
before  last,)  and  when  his  answer  is  received,  I  will  lay  the  corres- 
pondence before  you. 

Don  Carlos  of  Spain  has  applied  to  me  for  assistance  against  his 
august  sister-in-law;  but  I  conceive  it  to  be  our  proper  policy  to 
abstain  from  all  interference  with  the  affairs  of  Spain  at  present — . 
as  Mr.  Rothschild  has  lately  been  considerably  bit  by  dabbling  in 
Spanish  stocks. 

"  It  becomes  my  unpleasant  duty  to  inform  you  that  this  pacific 
and  highly  gratifying  picture  of  our  foreign  relations,  does  not  in- 
clude those  with  France  at  this  time."  The  King  of  the  French 
has  neglected  to  plank  up  the  amount  of  indemnity  agreed  on  by 
treaty.  For  full  particulars  of  this  business,  I  refer  you  to  the 
President's  message.  I  deem  this  the  proper  course  for  myself,  as 
Gen.  Jackson  might  object  to  my  interference  in  a  "co-ordinate 
branch  of  the  government." 

I  must   hnsten  over  the  other  matters  which  it  is  necessary  to 


ANOTHER  MESSAGE,  AND  THE  LAST.  173 

communicate  to  you:  Yankee  Hill  has  gone  to  New  Orleans — the 
Wandering  Piper  is  in  town — Cotton  bears  a  good  price — the 
charter  of  the  Darien  Bank  has  been  renewed — the  gas  lights  are 
in  successful  operation  at  New  Orleans — U.  S.  Bank  stock  is  worth 
107 — the  Dutch  have  taken  Holland — Tecumseh  is  dead — Fanny 
Kemble  is  married  to  her  Butler — I  wish  you  a  merry  Christmas — 
and  (now  we  come  to  the  point)  my  benefit  is  to  take  place  this 
evening. 

Done  at  the  Executive  Office  of  the  Theatre,  this  20th  day  of 
December,  in  the  59th  year  of  American  Independence,  and  of  my 
management  in  Georgia  the  third. 

SOL.  SMITH. 
[300  copies  ordered  to  be  printed.] 


15 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

WINDING    UP    OP    MY    COUNTRY    MANAGEMENT. 

Journey  of  three  hundred  Miles — Last  season  in  Montgomery — 
Our  leading  Actor — Stars— Dawning  of  the  Drama  in  Wetumpka 
— Visit  to  Hayneville — Orderly  Audiences— Old  Jack  Barnes — 
Murder  of  Richard  and  Richmond — Comic  Dance  by  a  Marble 
Statue— What's  trumps  ?— Debut  of  Mat.  Field— End  of  my 
Country  Management. 

Deciding  to  make  direct  for  Montgomery,  without 
stopping  at  Macon  and  Columbus,  we  made  arrange- 
ments for  our  journey  of  three  hundred  miles,  which 
we  accomplished,  after  undergoing  unheard-of  hard- 
ships, in  ten  days,  at  an  expense  not  much  short  of 
$1000,  without  reckoning  the  salaries  of  the  company. 
At  Caleba  Swamp,  we  found  about  three  thousand 
persons  waiting  for  the  mending  of  a  bridge.  If  any 
one  is  curious  to  know  some  of  the  incidents  at  this 
"watering  place,"  let  him  purchase  J.  M.  Field's 
"  Drama  at  Pokerville,"  and  turn  to  the  sketch 
entitled,   "A  Night  in  a  Swamp." 

Opened  at  Montgomery  on  the  3d  of  January, 
1835,  with  the  "Heir  at  Law"  and  "  'Tis  AH  a 
Farce."  Next  night  we  played  "Hamlet"  and  "My 
Aunt"— J2W**,  Mr.  J.  M.  Field,  who,  the  reader 
must  know,  had  been  during  the  preceding  year 
"doing  up"  the  leading  business  of  tragedy  very 
acceptably  to  the  Georgians.  I  can  never  consider 
Mr.  Field  a  great  tragedian;  but  I  do  say  that  I 
have  seen  many  much  worse  representatives  of  King 


WINDING  UP  OF  MY  COUNTRY  MANAGEMENT.     175 

Lear,  Richard,  Othello,  Sir  Giles  Overreach,  Shyloch, 
and  Hamlet,  than  he  was  at  the  time  I  am  writing  of. 
At  this  time  he  occasionally  "goes  on"  for  Claude 
Melnotte  and  Sir  Thomas  Clifford ;  but  the  opinion 
seems  to  be  quite  prevalent  among  the  "  b-hoys"  that 
"Jo  had  better  stick  to  comedy." 

During  this  season,  Mrs.  Drake  acted  with  us  a 
starring  engagement — so  did  Yankee  Hill,  and — last, 
not  least — Henry  J.  Finn.  I  remember  seeing  him 
play  Iago  at  the  old  Chatham  Theatre  in  1824.  He 
was  now  a  comedian — and  such  a  comedian  ! 

Urged  by  the  citizens  of  WETUMPKA,  I  sent  my 
dramatic  forces,  under  the  temporary  command  of 
Brev.  Gen.  J.  M.  Field,  to  that  remarkably  primitive 
city,  where  a  considerable  business  was  done  in  a 
billiard  room,  hastily  transformed  into  a  theatre, 
during  a  season  of  two  weeks.  Mr.  Charles  Mason, 
a  nephew  of  John  Kemble,  played  here  three  or  four 
nights,  to  good  houses. 

Hayneville,  in  the  opposite  direction,  now  claimed 
a  visit ;  and  in  a  large  room  in  the  academy,  a  little 
out  of  town,  the  drama  shed  forth  its  influences  on 
audiences  who  gave  no  token  whatever  of  their  ap- 
preciation of  our  efforts.  For  twelve  successive  nights 
we  exerted  ourselves  for  their  edification  ;  and  to  this 
day  I  am  in  utter  ignorance  whether  our  efforts  were 
satisfactory  or  not — for  not  a  hand  of  applause  greeted 
us  during  the  whole  time;  neither  did  a  smile — a  laugh 
was  out  of  the  question — shed  its  ray,  to  cheer  us  on 
in  our  task.  Yes — there  was  one  attempt  at  a  slight 
smile — indeed,  I  might  say  that  a  real  jolly  laugh 
was  on  the  point  of  breaking  out  on  one  occasion; 
but  it  was  checked  in   its  ineipiency.     It  was  during 


17G  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

the  performance  of  the  "  Hypocrite,"  Act  V.,  where 
Mawworm  mounts  on  a  table  behind  a  screen  and 
gives  an  extemporaneous  discourse,  which  on  this  par- 
ticular occasion  was  interlarded  with  some  local  hits, 
which  actually  took  effect  upon  one  tall  fellow  stand- 
ing in  a  corner  near  the  stage.  A  premature  "  Ha  ! 
ha !  h" — was  just  bursting  out,  when  one  of  the 
deacons  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  arose  from  a 
chair  with  great  solemnity,  and  addressed  the  quasi 
disturber  of  the  assembly  thus  :  "  Mr.  Thompson,  you 
must  quit  that  or  leave  the  meeting."  Mr.  Thompson 
"  shut  up." 

"  Old  Jack  Barnes,"  with  his  wife,  and  daughter 
Charlotte,  came  to  play  an  engagement  towards  the 
end  of  the  season,  in  Montgomery,  opening  in  the 
"  School  for  Scandal,"  in  the  first  scene  of  the  second 
act  of  which,  a  fat  negro  wench,  being  told  to  hold  up 
Miss  Barnes'  train  until  she  got  to  the  wing,  followed 
that  lady  on  the  stage,  and  remained  there,  holding 
up  the  train,  during  the  ceremony  of  reception,  which, 
under  the  circumstances,  was  an  uproarious  one — and 
reluctantly  leaving,  with  a  low  curtsy,  only  when  Sir 
Peter  (Mr.  Barnes)  told  her  that  her  services  were  no 
longer  required. 

On  one  of  "  Yankee  Hill's"  nights,  (with  shame  I 
confess  it,)  my  name  was  associated  with  his  in  the 
committal  of  a  horrid  murder ! — Richard  and  Rich- 
mond being  the  characters  in  which  we  perpetrated 
the  dreadful  deed. 

Our  prompter's  name  was  Gay.  He  performed  old 
men,  personated  marble  statues,  and  danced  comic 
hornpipes.  On  one  occasion,  the  performances  end- 
ing with  "Don  Juan,"  in  which  Gay  enacted  the  part 


WINDING  UP  OF  MY  COUNTRY  MANAGEMENT.     177 

of  the  murdered  governor  on  horseback,  (a  statue,) 
the  audience  demanded  a  comic  dance  before  they 
would  leave  the  house. 

"What  is  to  be  done?"  asked  Gay,  in  a  piteous 
tone,  the  perspiration  bursting  out  through  the 
Spanish  whiting  on  his  face.  "  It  will  take  at  least 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  prepare  for  a  dance !" 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  I,  promptly;  "  go  on  as  you  are." 

"What!"  said  Gay,  "go  on  for  a  comic  dance 
dressed  as  a  marble  statue?" 

"  Yes — as  the  marble  statue  ;  it  will  be  all  the 
more  comic," — and  up  went  the  curtain. 

The  audience  relished  the  dance  hugely ;  and  I 
must  say  that  the  marble  statue,  dancing  to  the  tune 
of  "  a  frog  he  would  a-wooing  go,"  was  a  most 
original  and  mirth-provoking  affair. 

During  the  engagement  of  the  Barnes',  we  per- 
formed the  farce  of  "Three  Weeks  after  Marriage." 
It  will  be  remembered  that  there  is  in  this  piece  a 
matrimonial  quarrel  about  a  game  of  cards.  A  fellow 
in  the  pit  had  listened  to  the  dispute  with  much 
interest  until  the  end  of  the  first  act,  when,  just 
before  the  fall  of  the  drop,  Sir  Charles,  in  reply  to 
his  lady's  invitation  to  go  to  bed,  exclaims — "  I'll  not 
go  to  bed  with  any  woman  who  don't  know  what's 
trumps."  The  man  in  the  pit  got  up  in  utter  sur- 
prise, and  said,  in  a  tone  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
the  whole  house — "  Well,  you're  a  cursed  fool  to 
quarrel  about  such  a  trifle!  Blast  me  if  I  wouldn't 
confess  to  the  diamond,  and  go  to  bed  !"  The  drop 
scene  again  rose,  and  soon  the  newly  married  couple 
were  engaged  in  their  dispute  about  the  game  of 
whist,    and   to   convince   his    wife   of   her   error,    S  r 


178  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 


Charles  went  up  to  the  table  and  dealt  out  the  cards. 
The  man  in  the  pit  called  out  and  asked  "what's 
trumps?"  Sir  Charles  just  at  that  moment  said 
"  clubs  !"  and  his  lady  "  diamonds  !"  which  appeared 
to  be  answers  to  his  question ;  whereupon  the  auditor 
took  up  his  hat  and  made  for  the  door,  exclaiming — 
"/shan't  wait  any  longer;  they've  been  quarrelling 
here  for  half  an  hour  about  clubs  and  diamonds — I 
don't  see  as  there's  any  likelihood  of  their  coming  to 
an  understanding,  so  I'll  go;  it's  getting  late."  This 
speech  elicited  a  round  of  applause  from  the  pit. 
Turning  as  he  was  about  passing  through  the  opening 
into  the  passage,  he  addressed  Sir  Charles  and  Lady 
Ba'ckett — "young  people,  you'd  better  make  up  that 
little  difficulty  and  let  the  play  go  on — it's  of  mighty 
little  consequence  what  was  trumps ;  make  it  up  and 
go  to  bed  !"  Then  looking  up  at  the  audience,  who 
were  roaring  with  laughter,  he  made  a  low  bow,  and 
retired  from  sight,  lit  a  cigar  at  a  lamp  in  the  passage, 
shook  the  door-keeper  by  the  hand,  and  walked  off. 

Matthew  Field,  who  afterwards  became  a  good  actor, 
and  somewhat  celebrated  as  a  writer,  (under  his  own 
name  and  that  of  Phazma,)  made  his  first  appearance 
on  any  stage  in  Montgomery  as  Hemeya,  in  the  trage- 
dy of  the  "Apostate,"  Mrs.  A.  Drake  performing 
Florinda.  The  debut  was  a  successful  one ;  but  the 
"last  scene  of  all  in  that  eventful  tragedy"  was  ren- 
dered somewhat  ludicrously.  If  the  reader  is  not 
aware  of  the  fact,  I  must  inform  him  that  Mrs.  Drake 
is  what  we  term  a  heavy  actress — (how  well  I  remember 
her  a  slim  young  girl  in  Albany,  thirty-eight  years 
ago  !) — and  Florinda  dies  'And  falls  beside  Hemeya  at 
the  close  of  the  piece.     Mat.  Field  had  got  through 


WINDING  UP  OF  MY  COUNTRY  MANAGEMENT.     179 

Ms  troubles,  and  lay  dead  and  stiff,  congratulating 
himself  on  the  success  lie  had  met  with  on  his  first 
attempt  at  acting,  when  he  suddenly  perceived  that 
Mrs.  D.  was  preparing  for  "a  fall  "  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  his  own  resting  place.  I  was  watching 
Mrs.  D.'s  splendid  death,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that 
poor  Mat.  did  appear  in  cousiderable  danger  of  being 
fallen  upon  by  the  poisoned  Florinda.  At  first  there 
were  sundry  twitchings  of  the  arms  and  legs  of  the 
dead  Hemeya,  then  as  the  body  of  the  devoted  Flo- 
rinda was  seen  actually  descending,  a  sudden  spring  of 
her  lover's  corpse  placed  it  out  of  danger,  and  there 
they  both  lay,  "faithful  to  each  other  even  in  death/' 
When  Mat.  found  that  he  was  not  crushed,  it  seemed 
to  occur  to  him  that  it  was  not  altogether  proper  or 
picturesque  to  turn  his  back  to  the  lady ;  so  he  very 
deliberately  turned  over,  and  stretching  forth  his  dead 
arms,  encircled  her  with  them  in  a  loving  embrace,  the 
curtain  falling  on  the  picture. 

Mary  Vos  (afterwards  Mrs.  Stewart)  performed  a 
few  nights,  "  previous  to  her  departure  for  the  east- 
ern cities."  This  excellent  actress  and  estimable  wo- 
man is  still  a  great  favorite  in  Mobile,  where  she  has 
roared  and  educated  two  lovely  daughters,  who,  if  they 
essay  the  stage,  are  destined  to  make  a  sensation  in 
the  theatrical  world. 

The  season  and  my  "country  management,"  ended 
on  the  10th  of  June,  1835,  with  my  benefit,  which  was 
very  largely  attended,  notwithstanding  the  extremely 
hot  weather ;  my  Montgomery  friends,  without  resort- 
ing to  the  humbug  of  a  "complimentary,"  filling  the 
house  to  its  utmost  capacity,  and  cheering  me  with 
their  shouts  and  kindly  greetings  to  the  last. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

GOING  NORTH. 

Starring  in  St.  Louis  and  Cincinnati— Stage  Coach  traveling  through 
Ohio — Postmaster  General  in  disguise— New  York  and  Philadel- 
phia— Return  to  Alabama — End  of  the  Journey-Work. 

Negotiations,  pending  for  some  months,  had  result- 
ed in  an  arrangement  which  was  to  sink  my  manage- 
rial individuality  in  a  "firm"  destined  to  exist,  as  it 
now  appears,  for  eighteen  years,  wielding  an  influence 
in  theatrical  matters  unequalled  in  the  States.  In  the 
following  fall  this  arrangement  was  to  go  into  opera- 
tion at  Mobile.  In  the  interim,  it  was  necessary  that 
I  should  "go  north"  to  pick  up  a  company  and  en- 
gage stars.  A  glance  at  this  northern  trip  must  con- 
elude  my  "Journey-Work." 

Leaving  my  wife  and  children  in  a  snug  little  cot- 
tage at  Harrowgate  Springs,  near  Wetumpka,  I  start- 
ed on  my  northern  journey,  in  company  with  Mr.  J. 
M.  Field,  about  the  middle  of  June,  passing  through 
Mobile  and  New  Orleans,  joining  in  a  celebration  of 
the  4th  of  July  on  board  the  steamer  "Warren"  on 
the  way,  and  arriving- at  St.  Louis,  where  Ave  had  an 
engagement,  early  in  July.  Here  I  was  welcomed  in 
the  good  old-fashioned  way,  and  had  a  good  benefit. 

Mr.  Field  opened  in  "  Richard  the  Third,"  and  was 
quite  successful. 

Cincinnati  was  our  next  town.     Mr.  Field  was 

well  known  here,  and  was  warmly  received,  though 

there  was  some  little  talk  to  the  effect  that  they  liked 

his  comedy  better  than  his  tragedy.      His  benefit  was 

(180) 


GOING    NORTH.  181 


a  very  fine  one.  For  myself,  falsifying  the  saying 
that  a  prophet  is  not  without  honor  except  in  his  own 
country,  the  people  seemed  determined  to  shower 
honors  "thick  upon  me  ;"  and  my  benefit — it  was 
a  "  crowder."  Mr.  Field  and  I  here  took  differ- 
ent routes,  he  proceeding  to  Buffalo,  where  1  believe 
he  played,  (afterwards  filling  an  engagement  at  Bal- 
timore,) while  I  went  on  to  head-quarters — New 
York. 

On  my  way,  in  company  with  several  gentlemen  of 
New  Orleans,  it  happened  that  the  stage  in  which  we 
were  passengers,  stopped  for  supper  at  a  small  vil- 
lage, situated  between  the  towns  of  Columbus  and 
Zanesville,  on  the  Cumberland  road,  in  the  State  of 
Ohio. 

There  was  a  great  gathering  of  militia  captains, 
lieutenants,  ensigns,  sergeants,  and  corporals,  with  a 
considerable  sprinkling  of  privates,  all  of  whom  had 
been  exhibiting  their  patriotism  during  the  day,  by 
marching  up  and  down  the  road,  shouldering  arms, 
carrying  arms,  presenting  arms,  and  charging  bayo- 
nets, preparatory  to  intended  hostile  operations 
against  the  neighboring  State  of  Michigan,  the 
authorities  of  which,  and  those  of  the  State  of  Ohio, 
were  at  open  war — almost — about  boundary. 

For  the  purpose  of  amusement,  it  had  been  agreed 
that  the  stage  driver  should  be  informed  confiden- 
tially, that  I  was  Amos  Kendall,  Postmaster  Gene- 
ral of  the  United  States,  travelling  in  disguise,  and 
assuming  the  very  common  name  of  Smith,  in  order 
to  discover  abuses  in  the  mail  transportation  depart- 
ment. With  many  mysterious  hints,  and  under  strict 
charges  of  secrecy,  Jehu  was  made  acquainted  with 


182  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

the  awful  fact,  that  he  was  actually  driving  the  im- 
portant individual  above  named.  The  reins  almost 
fell  from  his  hands  !  "  What,  Mr.  Kindle !  Amos 
Kindle!"  exclaimed  the  astonished  driver — "it  can't 
be  possible  ?"  "  It  is  possible,"  answered  the  gentle- 
man who  was  imparting  the  information,  and  who  was 
enjoying  a  cigar  and  an  outside  seat;  "and  it  is  his 
wish  to  be  entirely  private,  in  order  to  avoid  the  at- 
tentions that  would  otherwise  be  lavished  upon  him." 
The  driver  promised  the  most  inviolable  secrecy,  and 
on  our  arrival  at  the  stopping  place,  after  bowing  me 
into  the  house  with  much  ceremony,  proceeded  to 
curry  down  his  horses. 

We  had  not  been  long  in  the  hotel,  before  it  was 
plainly  perceptible  that  something  was  going  on ; 
curious  glances  were  thrown  into  the  bar-room  where 
we  were  sitting — militia  officers  flitted  about  and  col- 
lected into  groups — the  landlord  and  his  family  began 
to  spruce  up;  in  brief,  it  was  evident  our  secret  had 
been  confidentially  imparted  to  half  the  village. 

The  first  demonstration  that  was  made,  consisted 
of  an  invitation  to  my  friends  and  myself,  to  accept 
the  use  of  a  private  parlor.  This  being  at  once  agreed 
to,  the  landlord  ventured  to  suggest  that,  if  it  was  not 
disagreeable  to  me,  my  fellow-citizens  of  the  village 
would  like  to  pay  their  respects  to  me,  and  take  me 
by  the  hand. 

"No  objections  in  the  world,"  said  I;  "let  the 
worthy  citizens  come  in." 

Then  followed  a  scene  of  the  richest  kind  of  fun  ; 
but  Dickens  has  described  a  similar  adventure,  and  I 
pass  on. 

Supper  was  announced.     I  was  placed  at  the  head 


POSTMASTER    GENERAL    IN    DISGUISE.  183 

o£  the  table — the  richest  viands  and  nicest  kinds  of 
preserved  fruits  were  set  in  profusion  before  us.  We 
feasted — and  during  the  operation  numerous  female 
heads,  or  rather  heads  of  females — were  continually 
popping  in  at  the  windows  and  open  doors,  while  the 
piazza  was  filled  with  boys  of  all  sizes,  who  amused 
themselves  by  firing  off  Chinese  crackers,  sending  up 
young  rockets,  and  shouting  "  hurra  for  Jackson  ! — 
and  his  cabinet !" 

Supper  over,  we  retired  to  the  bar,  and  demanded 
our  bill  of  expenses.  The  landlord  smilingly  answered, 
that  he  Avas  too  happy  to  entertain  us  without  com- 
pensation— he  felt  honored  by  my  sitting  at  his  board, 
and  my  friends  were  equally  welcome.  After  much 
urging,  I  consented  to  receive  his  hospitality,  since 
he  insisted  on  it,  but  my  friends,  I  would  not  consent 
that  they  should  feast  at  his  expense — oh,  no  !  They 
must  be  allowed  to  pay  for  their  splendid  supper. 
Well,  if  I  insisted,  he  would  take  pay  from  them — 
and  he  did. 

"  Could  I  say  two  or  three  words  to  you  in  pri- 
vate?" asked  the  landlord,  in  a  low  voice,  as  he 
walked  by  my  side  towards  the  coach,  which  was 
waiting. 

"By  all  means,"  I  replied;  and  he  led  me  a  little 
on  one  side,  into  a  dark  part  of  the  piazza.  After 
two  or  three  hems  !  to  clear  his  throat,  the  landlord 
commenced: 

"  Whatever  others  may  think  of  you,  sir,  /consider 
you  an  honest  man." 

"  Sir,  I  feel  very  much  obliged  by  the  favorable 
estimate  you  have  formed  of  me." 

"  Yes,  sir,  let  the  opposition  say  what  they  please, 


184  THEATRICAL   JOURNEY-WORK. 

/  believe  you  to  be  a  conscientious  individual  —  I 
do." 

"  Well,  sir,  considering  this  is  the  first  time  we 
have  ever  met,  I  must  say  your  liberality  is  extraor- 
dinary ;  but  I  thank  you  for  your  good  opinion." 

"Ah,  sir,  though  we  have  never  met,  I  know  you 
well — we  all  know  you  for  a  most  efficient  officer,  and 
a  deserving  man." 

"  It  is  true'  I  am  tolerably  well  known  in  the 
western  and  southern  country,  and  as  for  my  efficiency, 
I  believe  I  do  push  ahead  about  as  hard  as  a  man  con- 
veniently can." 

"  That  you  do — all  parties  must  acknowledge  it. 
You  have  effected  many  improvements  in  your  depart- 
ment." 

"  Yes,  I  flatter  myself  that  in  the  stage  department 
I  have  made  some  improvements." 

"  Your  removals  have  met  with  general  approval  in 
this  part  of  the  country." 

"  Removals? — Oh,  yes — I  do  travel  a  great  deal." 

"  Yes,  you  do,  and  to  some  purpose.  Now  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  you  about  the  postmaster  here." 

"  Indeed  !     Well  what  of  him  f ' 

"  Are  you  not  aware  that  he  is  a  whig  ?" 

"No!— is  he?" 

"  Yes,  he  is — and  it  is  thought  by  the  friends  of  the 
administration  here,  that  he  ought  to  be  removed, 
and  a  good  democrat  appointed." 

"  What  is  the  office  worth  ?" 

"About  $500  a  year." 

"Who  would  be  a  proper  person  for  the  office?" 

"  Why,  I  couldn't  exactly  say — but  if" — 

"  Would  you  accept  the  appointment?" 


AN    OFFICE    SEEKER.  185 

"  Most  willingly,  if  you  should  think  me  worthy." 
"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  you'd  better  do.     Write 
on  to  the  department — state  the   matter  as  you've 
stated  it  to  me,  and  perhaps" — 

"  If  you  would  just  make  a  memorandum  it  would 
be  sufficient." 

"  My  dear  sir,  don't  depend  on  anything  that 
passes  between  us  here — here  I  am  Sol.  Smith,  as  you 
may  see  by  the  way-bill ;  but  at  Washington — you 
understand" — 

"  Yes,  I  understand.     Then  I'll  write  on  to  the 
department." 
"Yes — write." 

"  Sir,  I  shall  depend  on  your  good  offices." 
"  Sir,  you  may — your   supper  was   excellent,  your 
attentions  shall  not  be  forgotten — farewell — write  on 
to  the  department,  by  all  means." 

The  worthy  aspirant  to  the  postmastership  of  the 
village  accompanied  me  to  the  coach,  carefully  turned 
up  the  steps  when  I  had  entered,  and  then  joined  his 
fellow-citizens  in  three  loud  cheers,  with  which  our 
departure  was  honored. 

My  engagement  at  the  Park  Theatre,  although  I 
was  wedged  in  between  the  nights  of  the  Woods,  was 
moderately  profitable  to  the  management  and  myself. 
This  engagement  led  to  offers  from  Boston,  Philadel- 
phia, Baltimore,  Pittsburgh,  and  many  smaller  towns, 
all  of  which,  for  want  of  time,  I  was  compelled 
reluctantly  to  decline,  except  that  from  Phila- 
delphia, which  I  was  enabled  to  accept,  because  I 
could  perform  alternate  nights  in  that  city  and  New 
York  ;  which  I  did  during  a  period  of  two  weeks. 
My  engagement  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre,  Phila- 

16 


186  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY-WORK. 

delphia,  closed  on  the  25th,  and  that  at  the  Park 
Theatre,  New  York,  on  the  26th  of  September. 

Embarking  on  the  steamer  "  Columbia,"  I  in  due 
time  arrived  at  Charleston,  S.  C,  and  proceeded  by 
railroad  and  stage,  (three  nights  without  sleep,)  to 
Montgomery.  Taking  my  family  on  board  the 
"  Roanoke"  at  Wetumpka,  we  were  safely  conveyed 
to  Mobile,  where  I  superintended  the  preparations 
for  commencing  the  greatest  season  ever  made  in  that 
city. 

This  brings  my  narrative — sketchy  and  meagre  as 
it  is — down  to  the  year  1835 ;  and  here  I  stop. 
Though  constantly  on  the  move  ever  since,  and  exer- 
cising no  small  influence  on  theatrical  affairs  in  the 
great  western  valley,  my  "strolling,"  or  "journey- 
work,"  as  I  have  chosen  to  term  it,  terminated  at  this 
date.  Doubtless  an  anecdotical  sketch  of  my  manage- 
rial experience  in  New  Orleans,  St.  Louis  and  Mobile, 
during  the  past  eighteen  years,  might  possess  some 
interest ;  but  I  feel  no  disposition,  at  'present,  even  in 
my  light  and  skimming  way,  to  go  over  the  scenes  from 
which  I  have  so  lately  emerged.  The  building  and 
burning  of  many  theatres;  the  engagement  of  nume- 
rous "stars;"  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  drama  in 
the  south  and  west ;  the  various  attempts  of  individ- 
uals to  become  "  managers,"  and  their  miserable 
failures  ;  the  "  starring  system,"  with  its  train  of  evil 
consequences  to  the  profession  ;  the  attempts  of  "  His- 
trionic Associations"  to  teach  the  art  of  acting  ;  the 
humbuggery  of  newspaper  puffing  and  newspaper 
abuse;  the  outrageous  system  of  "free  admissions" 
to  theatres — all  these  subjects  (with  many  others) 
claim  and  may  receive  my  attention — BUT  NOT  NOW. 


ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 


GIVING   ENTERTAINMENTS. 

Harry  Langton  was  the  theatrical  name  of  a  very 
honest,  tolerably  talented,  and  very  eccentric  fellow, 
who,  for  several  years  was  attached  to  the  stage  in 
the  south.  He  was  a  worthy  individual — a  useful 
member  of  a  company  of  actors,  and  was  beloved  by 
every  one  who  knew  him  ;  yet  he  was  cursed  with  one 
failing — he  would  drink!  Well,  he  is  gone,  now, 
and  we  will  think  only  of  his  good  qualities,  which 
were  numerous,  and  endeavor  to  amuse  ourselves  with 
his  eccentricities. 

I  have  elsewhere  mentioned  the  fact,  that  being 
pushed  for  means  whereby  to  live,  he  engaged  him- 
self to  the  keeper  of  a  museum  in  Pittsburgh,  where 
he  stood  up  in  a  glass  case  for  two  mortal  hours  as  the 
wax  figure  of  Gen.  Jackson  !  I  intend,  in  this  sketch, 
to  give  some  other  instances  of  his  versatility  of 
talent,  by  the  exercise  of  which  he  overcame  tempo- 
rary pecuniary  difficulties. 

Harry  Langton  never  let  an  opportunity  slip  of 
giving  an  entertainment  where  there  was  the  least 
chance  of  success.  Sometimes,  indeed,  I  have  known 
him  to  propose  "trying  it  on,"  at  places  where  tho 
chance  of  profit  was  anything  but  flattering.     Travel- 

(187) 


188  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

ing  in  a  stage  coach,  he  was  always  looking  out  for 
eligible  villages  for  his  purpose,  and  I  recollect  that 
on  one  occasion,  he  seriously  proposed  to  issue  bills 
for  an  "  entertainment"  at  a  place  where  we  stopped 
to  water  the  horses,  though  nothing  in  the  shape  of  a 
dwelling  could  be  seen,  except  a  shanty  of  a  stable  ! 

"  Why,  Harry,"  one  asked,  "  where  do  you  expect 
your  audience  to  come  from  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  was  his  ready  reply,  "  there  are  plenty  of 
people  hereabouts,  somewhere,  I'm  certain,  for  I've 
seen  lots  of  cattle  as  we  came  along,  and  they've  got 
owners,  be  sure  on't :  let  us  put  out  some  bills  and 
"  try  it  on  !" 

In  two  instances  it  has  been  my  fate  to  assist, 
(much  against  my  will,)  in  poor  Langton's  entertain- 
ments. 

In  the  fall  of  1830,  the  boat  which  conveyed  the 
New  Orleans  company,  on  its  way  from  Nashville  to 
its  winter  destination,  stopped  a  few  hours  at  the 
then  inconsiderable  village  of  Vicksburgh.  Langton 
was  on  the  look-out,  of  course,  and  after  taking  a 
view  of  the  town,  came  in,  rubbing  his  hands,  and 
with  his  face  flushed  with  hope — 

"Sol.,"  said  he,  "here's  a  glorious  chance  for  an 
entertainment !  Theatre  can  be  had — people  all 
anxious;  if  the  boat  would  only  wait" — 

"But  the  boat  ivont  wait,"  I  replied,  "the  cap- 
tain has  just  told  me  he  starts  in  half  an  hour,  posi- 
tively." 

"  I  think  he  might  be  induced,"  persisted  Langton. 
"  It  is  now  four  o'clock — we  can  have  the  town  billed 
in  an  hour,  and  we  can  put  a  hundred  dollars  in  our 


GIVING    ENTERTAINMENTS.  189 

pockets  just  as  easy  as  nothing.  What  do  you  say  to 
trying  it  on  ?" 

"  What  do  /say  ?  I  say  it's  all  nonsense,  even  if  the 
boat  would  wait ;  you  could  not  get  twenty  people  to 
the  theatre  at  such  short  notice  ;  besides,  you  are  an 
entire  stranger  here — nobody  has  ever  heard  of 
you." 

"  That's  very  true,"  he  answered,  nodding  his  head 
knowingly,  "  but  they  all  know  you — you  have  acted 
here." 

"  To  be  sure  I  have,"  I  answered,  "  but  you  don't 
expect  me  to  make  a  fool  of  myself  in  your  proposed 
entertainment  ?" 

"  Make  a  fool  of  yourself? — not  at  all;  but  I  ex- 
pect you  to  make  fifty  dollars?  Come,  old  fellow," 
he  continued,  beseechingly,  "give  us  a  lift — there  are 
four  of  us  going  into  the  speculation,  and  we  propose 
to  give  you  half  the  receipts,  if  you  will  but  permit 
your  name  to  be  used,  and  sing  three  songs." 

"My  dear  fellow,"  I  remonstrated,  "I  can't  think 
of  it — besides,  the  captain  won't  wait,  and,  moreover, 
my  wardrobe  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  hold,  and  cannot 
be  got  at.  Your  offer  is  very  tempting,  certainly, 
[half  the  receipts  ! — Macready's  terms  !]  but  put  this 
entertainment  out  of  your  head." 

"  The  captain  will  wait,  and  has  already  'promised 
to  wait,  till  ten  o'clock;  so  it  all  depends  on  you.  As 
for  wardrobe,  I'll  lend  you  a  red  wig  and  a  pair  of 
striped  stockings.  Come,  old  fellow,  if  you  don't 
Avant  to  make  a  little  money,  we  do  ;  and  it  all  de- 
pends on  you  whether  we  are  enabled  to  do  it  or 
not." 

After  some  further  holding  back  on  my  pnrt,  and 

16* 


190  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

considerably  more  urging  on  that  of  Langton,  I  con- 
sented to  sing  two  songs,  provided  sufficient  notice 
could  be  given  to  the  inhabitants  that  the  entertain- 
ment would  take  place. 

"  Leave  the  notice  entirely  to  me,"  said  Langton, 
as  he  vanished  over  the  plank,  and  up  into  town 
through  the  mud. 

Langton  "  won  my  slow  consent"  about  sundown. 
I  had  hopes  that  when  he  found  the  difficulty  of  light- 
ing the  house,  and  giving  notice  to  the  citizens,  he 
would  give  up  the  project  altogether.  Not  so — Lang- 
ton was  not  the  man  to  be  staggered  by  slight  diffi- 
culties— the  entertainment  must  be  given — doors  open 
at  7 — curtain  to  rise  at  half-past,  and  "  no  postpone- 
ment on  account  of  the  weather." 

After  tea,  without  much  devotion  to  the  deed,  I 
assure  you — putting  a  wig  and  a  pair  of  comic  stock- 
ings in  my  pocket,  I  trudged  off  towards  the  theatre. 
On  my  way,  (in  the  dark,)  a  negro  bellman,  who  was 
the  town  crier,  stopped  at  a  corner  as  I  was  passing, 
and  after  shaking  his  bell  for  nearly  a  minute,  put  me 
out  of  all  doubt  in  regard  to  the  "  notice"  which  was 
to  be  given  of  the  proposed  entertainment  by  pro- 
mulgating, in  a  loud  voice,  the  following  proclama- 
tion : 

"  Oh  yes  !  Oh  yes  !  Oh  yes  !  Everybody  take 
particular  notice  hereby,  dat  Ole  Sol  has  come  back 
to  dis  here  burg,  on  his  way  to  New  Orleans,  and 
moreover  will  exhibit  hissclf  dis  night  at  de  the-a-tur 
as  large  as  life  !  So  dis  is  to  certify  dat  you  must 
all  come  and  see  him  by  particular  desire  for  dis  night 
only  !     Oh  yes  !   Oh  yes  !   Oh  yes  !" 

I  felt  willing,  at  that  moment,  to  sink  into  the  mud, 


GIVING    ENTERTAINMENTS.  191 


even  further  than  I  had  sunk,  while  listening  to  this 
proclamation,  provided  I  could  have  availed  myself  of 
such  an  accident,  as  an  excuse  for  not  "  exhibitin' ' 
myself  pursuant  to  notice.  However,  I  was  "  in  for  it" 
in  more  senses  than  one.  I  was  engaged,  and  on  star- 
ring terms !  So  I  waded  to  the  theatre,  where  I 
found  Langton  and  his  associates  lighting  candles, 
selling  tickets,  and  sweeping  off  the  stage,  prepara- 
tory to  the  grand  entertainment.  The  house  was  tol- 
erably well  filled.  "  Sylvester  Daggerwood"  was  the 
drama  performed  on  this  memorable  occasion  ;  two 
songs  by  your  humble  servant,  and  some  recitations 
by  the  "  rest  of  the  company,"  completed  the  pro- 
gramme, and  I  returned  to  the  boat,  declining  to  take 
my  share  of  the  proceeds,  and  made  a  solemn  deter- 
mination  never    to    be    coaxed    into    such   a    scrape 


again. 


"  But  who  shall  control  his  fate  ?" 


I  was  again  seduced  to  do  the  very  same  thing  on 
another  occasion,  and  by  the  selfsame  Langton. 

It  was  at  the  little  town  of  Benton,  on  the  Ala- 
bama river,  in  1832,  that  Langton  saw  a  fine  oppor- 
tunity for  giving  an  entertainment.  (We  were  again 
traveling  together.)  The  seducing  villain  made  use 
of  the  very  same  arguments  he  had  urged  so  success- 
fully at  Vicksburg  ;  the  boat  would  wait — the  people 
were  so  anxious  to  see  me  ! — such  a  crowd  would  be 
in  attendance — fifty  dollars,  at  least,  he  would  be 
able  to  put  into  his  pocket,  and  he  was  so  in  need  of 
money — he  was  sure  I  couldn't  have  the  heart  to  pre- 
vent his  making  such  a  handsome  sum.     I  consented. 

The  room    selected   for   the   "  entertainment"  was 


192  ANECDOTTCAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

exactly  fourteen  feet  square.  It  -was  filled  to  overflow- 
ing, and  we  were  obliged  to  give  our  songs  and  recita- 
tions on  a  table,  set  outside  of  a  window  ! 

The  only  remarkable  part  of  this  performance  was 
this  :  Langton  gave  the  comic  recitations  and  songs, 
while  I  gave  the  tragic  recitations  and  sentimental 
songs  ! 

By  this  queer  entertainment,  given  through  a 
window,  Langton  cleared  over  $40. 

Poor  Langton  !  He  went  to  Texas  in  the  beginning 
of  the  war  of  independence,  and  I  have  never  seen 
him  since. 

In  his  last  letter  to  me,  giving  a  portion  of  his 
travel's  history,  he  began  by  expressing  his  belief 
that  I  would  find  no  difficulty  in  calling  him  to  my 
remembrance — shall  I  ever  forget  him  ? — said  he  had 
just  returned  from  giving  an  entertainment  in  one  of 
the  Camanche  villages,  on  the  northern  frontier, 
where  he  narrowly  escaped  scalpation  ;  and  concluded 
with  the  following  sentence  : 

"  Sol.,  if  you'll  come  to  Texas,  we'll  make  our  for- 
tunes— glorious  chances  here  for  giving  entertain- 
ments— come  out !" 


BREAKING  A  BANK. 


Captain  Summons  is  a  very  clever  fellow — and  the 
"  Dr.  Franklin  "  was  a  very  superb  boat,  albeit  in- 
clined to  rock  about  a  good  deal,  and  nearly  turn 
over  on  her  side  "when  visited  by  a  breath  of  air  in 
the   least   resembling   a  gale.      Capt.  Summons  is   a 


BREAKING    A   BANK.  193 

clever  fellow.  All  steamboat  captains  are  clever 
fellows — or  nearly  all ;  but  what  I  mean  to  say  is, 
Capt.  Summons  is  a  particularly  clever  fellow ! — 
a  clever  fellow  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term — a 
fellow  that  is  clever  in  every  way — anxious  that  his 
passengers  shall  be  comfortably  bestowed,  well  fed 
and  well  attended  to — and  determined  that  they  shall 
amuse  themselves  "just  as  they  d — n  please,"  as  the 
saying  is.  If  he  happens  to  have  preachers  on  board, 
he  puts  on  a  serious  countenance  of  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing— consents  that  there  shall  be  preaching — orders 
the  chairs  to  be  set  out,  and  provides  bibles  and 
hymn-books  for  the  occasion — himself  and  officers, 
whose  watch  is  below,  taking  front  seats  and  listening 
attentively  to  the  discourse.  Likely  as  not,  at  the 
close  of  the  service,  he  will  ask  the  reverend  gentle- 
man who  has  been  officiating,  with  his  back  in  close 
proximity  to  a  hot  fire  in  a  Franklin  furnace,  to  ac- 
company him  to  the  bar  and  join  him  in  some  refresh- 
ments! If  there  are  passengers  on  board  who  prefer 
to  pass  the  time  away  in  playing  poker,  eucre,  brag  or 
whist,  tables  and  chairs  are  ready  for  them,  too — 
poker,  brag,  eucre  and  whist  be  it  !  All  sorts  of  pas- 
sengers are  accommodated  on  the  Dr.  Franklin — the 
rights  of  none  are  suffered  to  be  infringed ; — all  are 
free  to  follow  such  employments  as  shall  please  them- 
selves. A  dance  in  the  evening  is  a  very  common 
occurrence  on  this  boat,  and  when  cotillions  are  on 
the  carpet,  the  captain  is  sure  to  be  thar. 

It  sometimes  happens  that,  at  the  commencement 
of  a  voyage,  it  is  found  somewhat  difficult  to  recon- 
cile all  the  passengers  to  the  system  of  Capt.  Sum- 
mons, which   is  founded   on   the  broad  principle  of 


194        ANECDOTICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 

•qual  rights  to  all.  On  the  occasion  of  my  voyage 
in  the  "Doctor,"  in  December,  1844,  I  found  myself 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  passengers  who  were  en- 
tire strangers  to  me — a  very  rare  occurrence  to  one 
who  travels  so  often  on  the  western  rivers  as  I  do.  I 
wished  my  absence  from  New  Orleans  to  be  as  brief 
as  possible,  and  the  "  Doctor  "  was  the  fastest  boat 
in  port  at  the  time  of  my  leaving  the  Crescent  City ; 
so  I  resolved  to  secure  a  berth  in  her,  and  trust  in 
luck  to  find  a  St.  Louis  boat  at  the  Mouth. 

I  don't  know  how  it  is,  or  why  it  is,  but  by 
strangers  I  am  almost  always  taken  for  a  Preacher. 
It  was  soon  this  voyage.  There  were  two  Metho- 
dist circuit  riders  on  board ;  and  it  happened  that  we 
got  acquainted,  and  were  a  good  deal  together — from 
which  circumstance  I  was  supposed  to  be  one  of  them; 
which  supposition  was  the  means  of  bringing  me  into 
an  acquaintance  with  the  lady  passengers,  who,  for 
the  most  part,  were  very  pious,  religiously  inclined 
souls.  We  had  preaching  every  day,  and  sometimes 
at  night ;  and  I  must  say,  in  justice  to  brothers 
Twitchel  and  Switchell,  that  their  sermons  were 
highly  edifying  and  instructive. 

In  the  meantime  a  portion  of  the  passengers  "  at 
the  other  end  of  the  hall  "  continued  to  play  sundry 
games  with  cards,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrances 
of  the  worthy  followers  of  Wesley,  who  frequently 
requested  the  captain  to  interfere  and  break  up  such 
unholy  doings.  The  captain  had  but  one  answer — it 
was  something  like  this ;  "Gentlemen,  amuse  yourselves 
as  you  like  ;  preach  and  pray  to  your  hearts'  content 
— none  shall  interfere  with  your  pious  purposes  ;  some 
like   that   sort   of  thing — I  have   no  objection  to  it. 


BREAKING    A    BANK.  105 

These  men  prefer  to  amuse  themselves  with  cards  ;  let 
them — they  pay  their  passage  as  well  as  you,  gentle- 
men, and  have  as  much  right  to  their  amusements  as 
you  have  to  yours,  and  they  shall  not  be  disturbed. 
Preach,  play  cards,  dance  cotillions — do  what  you  like, 
I  am  agreeable;  only  understand,  that  all  games, 
(preaching  among  the  rest)  must  cease  at  10  o'clock." 
So  we  preachers  got  very  little  comfort  from  Captain 
Summons. 

Up,  up,  up,  up  we  went.  Christmas  Day  arrived. 
All  the  other  preachers  had  holden  forth  on  divers 
occasions,  and  it  being  ascertained  that  it  was  my  in- 
tention to  leave  the  boat  on  her  arrival  at  Cairo,  a 
formal  request  was  preferred,  that  I  should  preach 
the  Christmas  sermon!  The  ladies,  (God  bless  them 
all !)  were  very  urgent  in  their  applications  to  me. 
"  Oh  do,  brother  Smith  !  we  want  to  hear  you  preach  ! 
All  the  others  have  contributed  their  share  to  our 
spiritual  comfort — you  must  oblige  us — indeed  you 
must."  I  endeavored  to  excuse  myself  the  best  way 
I  could,  alleging  the  necessity  of  my  leaving  the  boat 
in  less  than  an  hour — my  baggage  was  not  ready — I 
had  a  terrible  cold,  and  many  other  good  and  sub- 
stantial reasons  were  given  ;  but  all  in  vain — preach 
I  must.  "Well,"  thinks  I,  "  if  I  must,  I  must."  At 
this  crisis,  casting  my  eyes  down  towards  the  Social 
Hall,  and  seeing  an  unusual  crowd  assembled  around 
a  table,  I  asked  one  of  the  brethren  what  might  be 
going  on  down  there  ?  The  fattest  of  the  preaching 
gentlemen  replied — "  The  poor  miserable  sinners  have 
filled  the  measure  of  their  iniquity  by  opening  a 
FARO  BANK  !"  "  Horrible  !  exclaimed  I,  holding  up 
my   hands  — and   "  horrible !"  echoed   the   ladies  and 


196  ANECDOTICAL   RECOLLECTIONS. 


missionaries  in  full  chorus.  "  Cannot  such  doings  be 
put  a  stop  to?"  asked  an  elderly  lady,  addressing  the 
pious  travellers.  "I  fear  not,"  groaned  my  metho- 
dist  contemporary,  (the  fat  one.)  "  We  have  been 
trying  to  convince  the  captain  that  some  dreadful  ac- 
cident will  inevitably  befall  the  boat,  if  such  proceed- 
ings are  permitted — and  what  do  you  think  he  an- 
swered ?"  "  What  ?"  we  all  asked,  of  course—"  Why, 
he  just  said,  that,  inasmuch  as  he  permitted  us  to 
preach  and  pray,  he  should  let  other  passengers  dance 
and  play,  if  they  chose  to  do  so ;  and  that  if  I  didn't 
like  the  "  proceedings"  I  complained  of,  I  might  leave 
the  boat?  Yes — he  did  ;  and,  moreover,  he  mentioned 
that  it  was  11  o'clock,  and  asked  me  if,  I  wouldn't 
'liquor!"  This  announcement  of  the  captain's 
stubborness  and  impiety  was  met  with  a  general 
groan  of  pity  and  sorrow,  and  we  resumed  the  con- 
versation respecting  the  unhallowed  faro  bank.  "  It 
is  much  to  be  regretted,"  remarked  the  elderly  lady 
who  had  spoken  before,  "that  something  can't  be 
done — Brother  Smith,"  she  continued,  appealing  di- 
rectly to  me,  and  laying  her  forefinger  impressively 
upon  my  arm,  "cannot  you  break  up  that  bank  ?" 
"Dear  Madam,"  I  answered,  "you  know  not  the 
difficulty  of   the   task   you   impose  upon   me, — faro 

BANKS     ARE     NOT     SO    EASILY  BROKEN  UP  as   you    may 

imagine  ;  however,  as  you  all  appear  so  anxious  about 
it,  if  you'll  excuse  me  from  the  sermon,  I'll  see  what 
can  be  done."  "  Ah  !  that's  a  dear  soul !" — "  I  knew 
he  would  try  " — "  he'll  be  sure  to  succeed  !"— "  our 
prayers  shall  not  be  wanting!"  Such  were  the  ex- 
clamations that  greeted  me  as  I  moved  off  towards  the 
faro  bank.     Elbowing  my  way  into  the  crowd,  I  got 


BREAKING    A    BANK.  197 


near  the  table  in  front  of  the  dealer,  and  was  for  a 
time  completely  concealed  from  the  view  of  my  pious 
friends  near  the  door  of  the  ladies'  cabin.  I  found 
the  bank  was  a  small  affair.  The  betters  were  risking 
trifling  sums,  ranging  from  six  to  twenty-five  cents. 

"  Mr.  Dealer,"  I  remarked,  "  I  have  come  to  break 
up  this  bank."  "The  deuce  you  have!"  replied  the 
banker — "let's  see  you  do  it."  "What  amount  have 
you  in  bank?"  I  inquired.  "Eleven  dollars,"  was 
his  answer.  "What  is  your  limit?"  asked  I.  "A 
dollar,"  he  replied.  "  Very  well,"  said  I,  placing  a 
ragged  Indiana  dollar  behind  the  Queen — "turn  on." 
He  turned  and  the  King  won  for  me.  I  took  the  two 
dollars  up  and  let  him  make  another  turn,  when  I  re- 
placed the  bet,  and  the  Queen  came  up  in  my  favor 
— I  had  now  four  dollars,  which  I  placed  in  the 
square,  taking  in  the  5,  6,  7  and  8 — and  it  won  again  ! 
Here  were  seven  dollars  of  the  banker's  money.  I 
pocketed  three  of  them,  and  bet  four  dollars  behind 
the  Queen  again — the  Jack  won,  and  the  Bank  was 
BROKEN !  The  crowd  dispersed  in  all  directions, 
laughing  at  the  breaking  up  of  the  petty  bank,  and  I 
made  my  way  towards  the  ladies'  cabin,  where  my 
new  friends  were  anxiously  awaiting  the  result  of  my 
bold  attempt.  "Well,  well,  well,"  they  all  exclaimed 
— "  What  success  ? — have  you  done  it?  Do  let  us 
hear  all  about  it  !"  I  wiped  the  perspiration  from 
my  brow,  and  putting  on  a  very  serious  face,  I  said 
solemnly:  "I  have  broken  that  bank!"  "You 
have?"  they  all  exclaimed. — "Yes,  I'll  be  d — d  if  he 
hasn't!"  muttered  the  disappointed  gamester,  the 
keeper  of  the  late  bank,  who  was  just  going  into  his 
state-room.    In  the  midst  of  the  congratulations  which 

17 


198       ANECDOTICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 

■were  showered  upon  me,  I  received  a  summons  from 
the  captain  to  come  forward  with  my  baggage — we 
were  at  Cairo. 


A  HOG  STORY. 

There  are  extant  any  number  of  dog,  horse,  cat,  rat, 
and  fish  stories.  I  am  going  to  write  a  Hog  Story. 
It  may  not  interest  the  reader,  but,  I  assure  you,  the 
circumstance  on  which  it  is  founded  interested  me  for 
a  whole  month,  and  even  now,  whenever  the  recollec- 
tion of  it  crosses  my  memory,  feelings  of  remorse  pun- 
ish me  considerably. 

Reader,  have  you  ever  traveled  through  that  beau- 
tiful tract  of  country,  situated  around,  about,  and  be- 
tween the  small  lakes  in  York  State  ?  If  you  have 
not,  you  have  seen  nothing.  Ask  Mr.  Knickerbocker 
Clarke  if  there  is  such  a  country  in  the  world!  Ask 
him  if  the  valleys  and  hills  through  which  run  the 
Housatonic,  the  Otselic,  Trout  Creek,  and  the  Chittin- 
ingo,  have  their  equals  in  Italy  or  Switzerland.     Ask 

him  if but  "there's  no  use  talking."     I  was  born 

up  about  there,  and  of  course  I  am  partial  to  those 
diggins.     I  can't  help  it.     But  to  my  story. 

On  the  Cayuga  lake,  east  side,  stands  a  beautiful 
village,  which  is  happy  in  the  name  of  Aurora.  One 
mile  north  of  that  lovely  village  lived,  in  1817,  a  sub- 
stantial farmer  named  Stott.  With  this  Stott,  a 
most  worthy  man,  the  writer  of  this  engaged  to  work 
in  the  harvest  field  one  month  for  six  bushels  of  wheat ; 
each  bushel  of  wheat  was  estimated  to  be  worth  one 


A    HOG    STORY.  109 


dollar — so  that  I  had  six  dollars  in  prospect  at  the 
end  of  the  month  ;  and  with  those  six  dollars,  added 
to  five  I  had  in  my  pocket,  I  intended  to  journey  to  the 
great  West,  then  a  great  distance  off. 

I  went  to  work  like  a  good  fellow,  mowing  and 
raking  hay,  binding  up  wheat,  and  making  myself  useful 
in  various  ways — happy  all  the  time,  and  joyous  as  the 
fish  that  sported  in  the  smooth  and  clear  lake  in  which. 
we  harvesters  bathed  every  evening  after  sunset;  de- 
lighted with  the  prospect  of  a  rich  reward  for  my  labor, 
and  dreaming  of  the  "Far  West,"  the  goal  of  my 
hopes  and  wishes,  (then  situated  about  Pittsburg — now, 
away  off  to  and  over  the  Rocky  Mountains!)  and 
glorying  in  the  thought,  that  I,  a  boy  of  sixteen,  would 
be  the  pioneer  of  the  great  Smith  family  in  the  western 
regions. 

All  went  on  smoothly.  One  day,  as  I  was  pitching 
bundle  by  bundle,  a  load  of  wheat  into  the  mow,  I 
saw  enter  the  barn,  rooting  and  grunting  along,  a  very 
large,  fat,  lazy,  long-eared  sow.  I  can't  to  this  day 
account  for  the  devilish  feeling  which  induced,  me  with- 
out a  thought,  to  throw  the  pitchfork  into  this  unof- 
fending old  creature;  but  I  did  it! — instantly  did  it. 
The  handle  was  scarcely  out  of  my  hand  before  I  re- 
pented of  the  deed  ;  and  in  less  than  three  minutes  I 
amis  wondering  what  could  have  prompted  me  to  such 
an  act.  Ah !  many — very  many  hours,  in  the  stillness 
of  night,  did  I  lie  upon  a  sleepless  couch  and  ruminate 
upon  my  crime.  Bitter  tears  of  repentance  trickled 
down  my  youthful  cheeks.  Sinner  that  I  was ! 
What  had  the  poor  beast  done  to  deserve  such  a  fate  ? 

The  poor,  surprised  sow  gave  a  horrible  squeal,  (I 
hear  it  now  '!)  and  ran  with  all  her  might  out  of  the 


200        -  ANECDOTICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 

barn  and  out  of  the  yard — the  pitchfork  still  sticking 
in  her  quivering  pork.  The  instrument  of  torture  was 
afterwards  found  about  three  hundred  yards  from  the 
place  where  the  fatal  deed  was  committed;  but  the  old 
sow — the  unoffending,  innocent  old  sow — had  disap- 
peared in  the  thick  undergrowth  of  a  neighbouring 
wood  and  had  doubtless  ended  her  days  in  solitude, 
with  no  pitying  relative  near  to  close  her  eyes,  or 
render  the  last  sad  offices  to  the  dying  innocent. 

As  for  me,  the  perpetrator  of  the  horrid  crime,  what 
a  month  did  I  pass  ?  My  mind  was  tortured  with 
horrible  images  of  ghastly  hogs  bristling  up  before  me. 
The  poor  old  murdered  sow  actually  appeared  before 
my  half  wTaking  and  half  closed  eyes,  dressed  in  a 
shroud,  walking  on  her  hinder  legs,  shaking  her  right 
paw  into  my  face,  and  pointing  with  her  left,  with 
a  "  most  piteous  action,"  to  two  bleeding  pitchfork 
wounds  in  her  ribs!  In  vain  I  tried  to  shake  off  these 
fantasies ;  the  more  I  shook,  the  more  they  wouldn't 
go.  I  was  miserable — I  was  a  murderer— I  had  com- 
mitted sowicide  ! 

As  a  compensation  to  the  farmer,  I  had  made  over 
to  him  the  proceeds  of  my  six  bushels  of  wheat,  but 
that  did  not  ease  my  mind  in  the  least.  I  had  done  a 
deed  which  a  thousand  bushels  of  wheat  could  not 
atone  for.  The  phantom  sow,  with  the  winding  sheet 
trailing  after  her,  as  she  stalked  around  my  bed  in  the 
garret,  drove  sleep  away  from  my  pillow,  and  de- 
prived me  of  all  chance  of  rest.  I  grew  weary  of  life. 
I  didn't  care  any  more  about  travelling  west.  The 
idea  frequently  crossed  my  mind  of  sacrificing  myself 
to  the  manes  of  the  poor  feminine  hog. 

My  month  was  up. 


A    HOG    STORY.  201 


Two  Quakers  came  along  and  inquired  for  seed 
wheat.  I  offered  them  my  six  bushels,  and  they  pur- 
chased it,  at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  bushel.  I  list- 
lessly received  the  money,  and  passed  it  over  to  the 
honest  farmer  in  payment  for  the  murdered  sow,  and 
was  just  bidding  farewell  to  my  kind  employer  and  his 
family  when  a  little  urchin  came  running  in,  scream- 
ing with  all  his  might — 

"  Oh,  daddy  !  daddy  !  just  come  out  here  and  see 
something  !  If  here  isn't  our  dead  sow  coming  up  the 
lane  !" 

Horror-stricken,  I  huddled  on  my  pack  with  the 
utmost  speed,  and  prepared  to  depart,  dreading  to 
meet  the  spectre  which  I  doubted  not  was  coming  to 
upbraid  me  for  my  brutal  butchery  !  I  started  off  at 
full  speed  towards  the  gate,  when — can  I  express  my 
joy  at  the  sight  which  met  my  view  ? — there  was  the 
veritable  sow  that  I  had  for  a  month  mourned  as  dead, 
alive  and  rooting  ! — somewhat  thinner  than  when  I 
pitchforked  her,  but  apparently  enjoying  remarkably 
good  health  ;  and  by  her  side  marched  sixteen  clean, 
elegant  little  offspring,  joyously  grunting  as  they  ca- 
pered along  up  the  lane.  Oh  what  delight  I  experi- 
enced at  this  sight !  A  millstone  had  been  taken  from 
my  neck — I  was  not  a  murderer — I  was  free  from 
crime!  I  could  have  hugged  that  veritable  old  hog — 
I  could  ! — and  I  believe  I  did  kiss  half-a-dozen  of  the 
pigs.     I  was  completely  happy. 

Farmer  Stott  insisted  that,  inasmuch  as  I  had  paid 
for  the  supposed  defunct  sow,  she  belonged  to  me,  and 
that  I  was  also  proprietor  of  her  progeny — the  whole 
being  worth,  at  the  lowest  rate  of  hog's  flesh,  at  least 

17* 


202  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

twelve  dollars.  I  utterly  refused  to  receive  anything 
more  than  the  price  I  had  paid  for  the  elder  animal. 
Happy  in  the  contemplation  of  the  swinish  family 
group,  composed  of  the  mother  lying  on  her  side,  and 
furnishing  an  early  breakfast  to  her  sixteen  young 
'uns,  I  passed  out  at  the  gate,  and  wended  my  way 
westward. 


DON  LUDLOW  HEMIT  IN  HAVANA. 

To  ensure  a  proper  understanding  of  this  sketch, 
it  is  necessary  to  explain  that  the  uncommon  name  of 
"  Smith"  is  pronounced  by  the  Spaniards,  "  Hemit." 
Bills  posted  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  in  Havana, 
during  the  winter  of  1842,  announced,  in  good  Span- 
ish, that  "  los  Cirque  Olympic  Americano,"  under 
the  management  of  Ludlow  and  Smith,  would  open  on 
such  a  night,  by  permission  of  the  Captain  General 
of  Cuba,  &c,  &c.  It  fell  to  my  lot,  (Ludlow  and  I 
drew  lots  for  the  chance  of  the  journey,)  to  go  over 
to  the  Spanish  Island  as  "  Impressario"  of  a  circus 
company,  consisting  of  Levi  North,  Otto  Motty, 
Young  Juan  Hernandez,  John  Robinson,  Eaton  Stone, 
Dennis  ditto,  and  about  twenty  others  of  less  note, 
together  with  a  host  of  grooms,  and  something  like 
forty  horses.  Instead  of  realizing  a  profit  of  $10,000, 
as  we  expected,  we  were  obliged  to  submit  to  a  loss  of 
about  $6,000.  But  that  is  all  over,  and  it  is  not  my 
intention  to  dwell  upon  a  subject  so  disagreeable  to 
remember. 

After  the  usual  difficulties  of  custom-house  inspec- 


DON  LUDLOW  HEMIT  IN  HAVANA.  203 

tions  and  examinations,  we  effected  a  landing — 
"  horse,  foot  and  dragoons."  In  transacting  business 
with  the  commercial  house  to  whom  we  were  consigned, 
I  found  that  the  firm  of  Ludlow  and  Smith  had  be- 
come embodied  in  my  individual  self,  under  the  title 
of  Don  Ludlow  Hemit,  in  which  style  I  was 
addressed,  while  on  the  Island,  by  all  who  had  occa- 
sion to  transact  business  with  the  concern. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  an  American  on  arriv- 
ing at  Havana,  is  the  great  difference  betwixt  a  free 
and  a  despotic  government.  It  appears  a  little  strange 
to  a  republican  to  meet  a  soldier  under  arms  and  on 
duty  at  every  corner  and  at  every  crossing.  If  you 
visit  a  theatre,  you  see  one  of  these  interesting  gentle- 
men stationed  at  the  entrance  of  each  box  !  They 
are  quite  inoffensive,  however,  and  in  a  day  or  two 
they  cease  to  annoy  you  ;  you  pass  them  as  you  would 
so  many  posts. 

The  grand  entrances  of  the  private  dwellings  in  the 
city  serve  for  the  ingress  and  egress  of  ladies,  gentle- 
men, servants,  horses  and  carriages !  One  morning 
while  a  large  party  were  at  breakfast  in  our  boarding 
house,  a  splendid  stud  horse  was  brought  in  by  a 
groom,  and  paraded  around  the  table,  fur  the  inspec- 
tion of  Col.  Harney,  who  wished  to  purchase  an  ani- 
mal of  the  kind. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  keepers  of  boarding  housca 
and  taverns  to  report  to  the  government  every 
person  they  entertain  and  lodge  each  night;  and 
they  are  accountable  to  the  treasury  of  Queen  Isabel 
the  second,  for  the  sum  of  fifty-two  dollars  for  every 
one  that  dies  in  their  houses.  Whenever  a  foreigner 
leaves  the  Island  he  is  obliged  to  obtain  a  certificate 


204        ANECDOTICAL  EECOLLECTIONS. 

from  the  dead  office  that  he  is  alive,  another  from 
the  custom-house  that  he  is  clear  of  its  books,  and 
yet  another  from  the  Captain  of  Partida,  (I  think  that 
is  his  title,)  that  he  owes  no  debts  ! 

On  the  opening  night  of  the  "  Cirque  Olympique,"  a 
company  of  twenty  soldiers  under  the  command  of  a 
sergeant,  marched  up  to  the  box-office,  and  reported 
to  Don  Ludlow  Hemit  that  they  came  by  command 
of  the  alcalde  of  the  quarter  to  preserve  order  in  the 
house,  and  to  guard  the  box  of  the  governor ;  for 
which  service  the  sergeant  intimated,  through  an 
interpreter,  that  he  expected  a  gratification  from  Don 
Hemit.  In  reply,  I  directed  the  interpreter  to  say  to 
the  sergeant  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  his  or  his 
soldiers'  services ;  and  that  if  the  governor's  box 
required  guarding  they  were  welcome  to  guard  it,  but 
not  at  my  expense  ;  and  that  so  far  from  gratifying 
them,  (which  the  reader  ought  to  be  informed  meant 
making  them  a  present  of  an  ounce  of  gold,)  it  would 
afford  me,  Don  Ludlow  Hemit,  a  great  gratification 
if  they  would  march  back  to  their  quarters,  and  keep 
out  of  my  sight  for  the  remainder  of  their  natural 
lives.  The  worthy  sergeant  touched  his  cap  with  the 
back  of  his  hand  by  way  of  salute,  wheeled  his  com- 
mand to  the  right  about,  and  marched  off.  After  the 
departure  of  the  soldiery,  two  ministers  presented 
themselves,  and  demanded  a  gratification  of  a  quarter 
of  an  ounce  each  for  sitting  each  side  of  the  alcalde's 
box ;  and  this  imposition  I  was  obliged  to  submit  to 
every  night  of  performance. 

Our  contract  with  Otto  Motty,  the  man  that  plays 
with  cannon  balls,  was  to  the  effect  that  he  was  to 
perform  four  weeks  in  the  Island  of  Cuba,  and  receive 


DON  LUDLOW  HEMIT  IN  HAVANA.       205 

for  his  services  $1,000.  At  the  end  of  our  second 
week,  I  found  that  it  would  be  policy  to  cut  off  the 
last  week  of  our  season,  and  by  that  means  save  about 
$1,500.  As  a  compromise  with  Motty,  I  proposed  to 
pay  him  $750  for  the  three-foruths  of  the  time  agreed 
on,  and  $250  on  our  return  to  New  Orleans,  where 
he  should  perform  the  other  week.  This  he  agreed  to 
— but  after  all  arrangements  were  made  to  close  up 
the  disasterous  season,  and  leave  the  Island  in  the 
steam  packet,  he  concluded  to  act  the  rascal,  and  de- 
mand the  full  amount  of  his  bond.  lie  accordingly 
filed  his  claim  of  $500  with  the  proper  authorities, 
and  the  passport  of  Don  Ludlow  Hemit  was  stopped ! 
Here  was  a  dilemma.  I  had  procured,  (by  the  help 
of  sundry  ounces  of  gold,)  passports  for  the  whole 
company  and  stud  of  horses — but  Don  Ludlow  Hemit 
was  ordered  not  to  depart  the  Island  until  the  demand 
of  the  thrower  of  the  cannon  balls  was  fully  satisfied  ! 
It  was  the  night  previous  to  the  day  of  our  intended 
departure  that  the  decree  of  the  governor  was  com- 
municated to  me.  What  could  I  do  ?  Obtaining  a 
hearing  of  the  case  was  out  of  the  question,  it 
appeared  ;  and  even  if  the  matter  could  be  brought  to 
adjudication,  I  had  no  proof  of  the  compromise  I  had 
made  with  the  Dutch  Jew — the  evidence  of  my  son  and 
clerk  (who  heard  the  new  agreement)  being  excluded 
by  the  Spanish  law  ;  while  he  had  our  original  contract 
which  called  for  the  fulfillment  of  its  provisions  in 
Cuba.  At  last,  after  much  reflection,  it  occurred  to 
me  that  if  I  should  bring  a  suit  against  him,  I  could 
at  least  obtain  an  immediate  hearing  of  the  case,  and 
possibly  I  might  so  mix  matters  ///'  before  the  alcalde 
that  the  judgment  might  work  a  release  of  the  prohibi- 


206  ANECDOTICAL   RECOLLECTIONS. 

tion  to  quit  the  Island.  I  sought  out  a  minister,  and 
placing  half  an  ounce  of  gold  in  his  hand,  desired 
him  to  arrest  Otto  Motty  at  the  suit  of  Don  Ludlow 
Hemit,  for  breach  of  contract,  &c.  In  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  the  defendant  was  in  the  presence  of  the 
alcalde,  whose  attendance  at  that  late  hour  was 
secured  by  means  of  an  ounce,  sent  into  his  private 
room  by  the  minister  whose  services  I  had  secured  as 
above  stated,  and  the  trial  began.  And  oh !  such  a 
trial  ! — the  lawyers,  parties  and  spectators  all  kept 
their  seats  while  they  made  their  statements.  Otto 
Motty  insisted  upon  his  bond,  and  demanded  $500  of 
Ludlow  Hemit — (he  had  received  $500,  and  there  was 
really  $250  due) — while  I  demanded  that  he  should  go 
to  New  Orleans  and  perform  a  week  before  he  should 
be  entitled  to  the  full  amount  which  we  had  agreed  to 
pay  him.  We  sat  and  jabbered  there  about  an  hour, 
when  looking  up  I  discovered  that  the  alcalde  had  left 
the  room !  My  friendly  minister  informed  me,  on 
inquiry,  that  the  worthy  magistrate  had  gone  to  sup- 
per. Quietly  slipping  an  ounce  into  the  minister's 
hand,  I  desired  that  disinterested  functionary  to  pass  it 
in  to  the  alcalde,  with  my  compliments,  and  ask  him 
if  he  was  ready  to  decide  the  case.  The  minister 
returned  almost  immediately,  and  reported  that  the 
alcalde  had  decided  that  we  must  arbitrate  the  matter 
in  dispute,  on  these  conditions :  Don  Ludlow  Hemit 
could  not  compel  Otto  Motty  to  leave  the  Spanish 
dominions,  and  Otty  Motty  could  not  compel  Don 
Ludlow  Hemit  to  pay  him  for  services  which  he  had  not 
rendered.  The  clerk  instantly  recorded  this  decision, 
or  whatever  it  may  be  called,  and  I  was  informed  that 
by  paying  $250  into  the  court,  I  should  satisfy  the 


DON  LUDLOW  HEMIT  IN  HAVANA.  207 

judgment,  and  be  entitled  to  my  passport.  "  Here  is 
the  money,"  said  I,  in  high  spirits  at  the  result.  "  I 
shall  not  take  it,"  indignantly  replied  old  Motty,  "  I 
shall  have  my  tousand  dollars."  "No  you  won't, 
old  fellow,"  said  I,  "here  is  the  decree  of  court." 
"  But,"  pleaded  the  Dutchman,  "I  will  go  with  you 
to  Orleans  and  play  the  other  week,  as  you  proposed 
and  get  the  other  $250."  "  Oh,  no,"  was  my  answer  ; 
"  the  judgment  of  this  court  is  final,  here  is  your 
money  ;  take  it  and  be  thankful."  A  question  here 
arose  about  the  costs.  The  clerk  and  ministers  said 
Don  Ludlow  Hemit  must  pay  them,  as  the  judgment 
was  against  him.  I  turned  to  Otto  Motty  and  said  : 
"  You  must  pay  these  costs."  Of  course  he  declined  ; 
so  I  called  to  my  minister  to  bring  me  a  fee  bill, 
which  I  found  amounted  to  just  two  ounces,  ($32).  I 
then  asked  for  a  bit  of  paper,  and  wrote  as  follows : 

Otto  Motty — 

To  Ludlow  Hemit,  Dr. 
For  transporting  cannon  balls  from  ship  to  the  Cirque  Olym- 
pic, and  thence  to  the  Plaza  de  Toros,  several  times,         $32  00 

Handing  this  to  the  minister,  I  told  him  to  a  nest  Mr. 
Motty,  and  stop  his  passports.  In  a  moment  the  man 
of  cannon  balls  saw  the  predicament  lie  was  in,  and 
agreed  to  pay  the  bill  without  further  question. 

Next  day  at  five  o'clock,  P.  M.,  all  things  were  on 
board  the  good  steamer  Alabama,  and  we  were  ready 
for  a  start.  Just  as  I  was  stepping  on  board  the 
small  craft  which  was  to  carry  us  to  the  ship,  Otto 
Motty  was  seen  hurrying  down  past  the  custom-house, 
with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  and  his  passport,  which  he 
had  with  great  difficulty  obtained,  in  his   hand.     He 


208  ANECDOTICAL   RECOLLECTIONS. 

spoke  to  some  one  of  our  party  and  observed  that  he 
had  feared  being  too  late.  "  To  late  for  what  t"  I 
inquired.  "  Too  late  for  the  steamboat,"  he  answered. 
I  here  commenced  whispering  with  the  circus  people, 
pointing  occasionally  to  Otto  Motty,  who  was  in  a 
small  boat  alongside  of  us  during  our  row  out  into  the 
harbor.  We  entered  the  steamer  at  the  same  time, 
and  Robinson,  (the  equestrian  manager,)  took  Otto 
Motty  mysteriously  aside  and  whispered  in  his  ear — 
"  Beware  !"  The  same  warning  was  whispered  by 
other  members  of  the  equestrian  corps,  in  various 
tones.  Otto  Motty  at  last  ventured  to  inquire  of  one 
what  he  was  to  "  beware"  of?  He  was  then  gradually 
let  into  the  secret  that  it  was  the  intention  of  Ludlow 
Hemit  to  throw  him  overboard  during  the  voyage, 
with  his  cannon  balls  attached  to  his  feet  as  sinkers  ! 
At  first  he  was  incredulous,  but  all  the  circus  people 
assuring  him  in  the  most  solemn  manner  that  there 
was  no  mistake  about  it,  he  at  length  determined  that 
he  would  not  risk  his  life  in  the  same  ship  with  me. 
The  last  I  saw  of  him,  he  and  his  cannon  balls  were 
in  a  small  boat  making  their  way  towards  the  shore, 
while  we  were  in  our  magnificent  steamer,  leaving  the 
beautiful  and  unequalled  harbor  of  Havana,  and 
passing  the  frowning  Moro  castle. 

Arrived  at  New  Orleans,  I  shaved  of  my  whiskers 
and  mustachios  of  a  month's  growth,  and  abjured  for- 
ever the  cognomen  of  Don  Ludlow  Hemit. 


who's  at  the  wheel?  209 


WHO'S  AT  THE  WHEEL? 

Western  men  will  remember  the  Vandalia,  which 
was  for  many  years  a  popular  and  profitable  freight 
and  passenger  boat  on  the  Mississippi,  and  which  only 
ceased  running  in  1842  or  '43.  She  was  an  "eight- 
day  boat,"  and  before  the  introduction  of  the  Scotts, 
Whites,  Missouris,  Shotwells  and  Eclipses,  was  set 
down  as  a  "fast  running"  vessel,  being  rated  at  our 
insurance  offices,  A.  No.  1. 

The  incidents  I  am  about  to  relate  occurred  in  the 
summer  of  '40. 

The  river  was  low,  and  it  was  not  thought  advis- 
able to  "run  nights" — at  any  rate  until  we  got 
below  Memphis. 

There  was  considerable  sickness  among  the  deck 
passengers,  and  as  I  teas  the  only  physician  on  board, 
my  time  was  much  occupied  in  weighing  out  grains 
and  scruples  of  calomel,  jalap  and  ipecacuanha  from 
the  medicine  chest.  This  I  got  along  with  very  well, 
having  a  faithful  assistant  in  the  clerk,  Thompson, 
who  went  the  rounds  with  me,  and  took  particular 
care  that  my  prescriptions  were  attended  to. 

One  evening  the  steward  came  to  my  state-room  and 
said  Capt.  D desired  to  speak  with  nip. 

"What!"  I  exclaimed,  more  than  half  asleep  for 
truth  to  say  I  was  snatching  an  afternoon's  nap,  to 
make  up  for  the  loss  of  rest  caused  by  my  professional 
attendance  on  the  lower  deck — "is  the  captain  taken 
sick? — well,  bring  me  the  medicine  chest — how  was 
he  taken? — fever?     Tell  Thompson  to  give   him  1 

IS 


210  ANECDOTIC AL  RECOLLECTIONS. 

usual  dose  of  ipecac,  to  clear  out  his  stomach,  and  I'll 
be  with  him  before  it  operates." 

"You  are  mistaken,  doctor" — (they  all  called  me 
so  during  this  voyage) — "the  captain  is  not  sick;  he 
wants  to  see  you  on  particular  business." 

"  Oh,  that's  a  different  matter — ask  the  captain  to 
come  to  my  state-room." 

Away  went  the  steward,  and  soon  after  the  captain 
made  his  appearance.  After  the  usual  inquiries  by 
me  of  "how  do  we  get  on?"  and  "how  far  have  we 
run  to-day  ?"  and  an  apology  from  him  for  disturbing 
me,  the  worthy  captain  opened  the  business  of  the 
evening. 

"  I  fear  our  first  pilot's  in  a  bad  way — nothing  will 

stay  on  his  stomach,"  remarked  Capt.  D ,  taking 

a  chair,  and  stretching  out  his  legs  in  the  easy  way 
that  captains  of  steamboats  will — "  can't  you  do  any- 
thing for  him  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  fear  not,"  was  my  answer;  "I  have  tried 
everything  in  the  medicine  chest — there  is  no  hope 
whatever  of  his  being  able  to  take  his  post  at  the 
wheel  during  this  voyage ;  soon  as  we  arrive  at  New 
Orleans  he  had  better  go  to  Stone's  hospital — a 
month's  care  in  that  excellent  institution  will  pro- 
bably restore  him." 

"This  is  very  unlucky,"  grumbled  the  captain, 
"  I  wanted  to  ■  run  nights'  after  to-night,  and  the 
second  pilot  cannot  stand  double  watches — what's  to 
be  done  ?" 

I  quietly  told  him  I  didn't  know  what  was  to  be 
done,  and  supposed  the  business  was  over  ;  but  Capt. 

D lingered,  gave  two  or  three    "  h-hems,"  spat 

violently  through  the  state  room  door  and  over  the 


who's  at  the  wheel?  211 

guards,  changed  his  position    several   times,  and  at 
length  continued  the  conversation. 

"  Mr.    Sol.,    I    understand   that   during  your   life 
you've  turned  your  hand  to  'most  everything." 
"Well,  I  have"— 

"  I  have  heard  of  your  merchandizing,  your  preach- 
ing, your  acting,  and  your  doctoring — did  you  ever 
try  your  hand  at  piloting  ?" 

"Piloting?  Never — unless  occasionally  lending  a 
hand  at  steering  a  flat  boat  may  be  considered 
piloting." 

The  captain  looked  somewhat  disappointed  when 
he  received  my  answer,  and  rose  to  depart. 
"What  is  it  you  want  ?"  I  asked. 
Looking  up  in  my  face,  he  said,  "I  want  a  pilot ; 
we  can't  run  nights  with  one — Jim,  being  down  with 
the  fever,  and  there  being  no  hope  of  getting  him  up, 
I  thought  if  you" — 

"  Am  I  to  understand  you  that  failing  to  get  Jim 
on  his  legs,  you  wish  me  to  stand  watch  as  pilot  ?" 

"  Why,  if  you  would — Thompson  says  you  can  if 
you  will." 

"  But  what  would  the  insurance  companies  say  in 
case  of  accident  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  That's  the  point,"  answered  the  captain — "  I 
wanted  you  to  take  Jim's  place  at  the  wheel,  and 
assume  his  character  at  the  same  time  !  If  you  will 
do  this,  we  shall  save  at  least  forty-eight  hours  be- 
tween this  and  Orleans." 

I  pondered  a  moment,  and  then  asked  when  he 
wished  me  to  assume  my  new  duties  ? 

"  At  the  commencement  of  the  dog  watch — six,  r. 
M.,  to-morrow,"  he  answered. 


212  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Enough  said — I'll  do  it  !  Consider  me  engaged, 
and  be  so  good  as  to  send  Thompson  to  me." 

The  captain  departed,  rejoiced  at  my  ready  ac- 
quiescence, and  that  same  evening  a  report  went 
through  the  boat  that  Jim  was  much  better,  and 
would  be  able  to  resume  his  post  at  the  wheel  very 
shortly.  Thompson  came  to  me,  and  I  arranged  with 
him  to  give  our  patients  a  farewell  dose  all  round, 
and  pronounce  them  cured. 

Next  evening,  I  visited  the  pilot's  state  room,  and 
just  before  six  o'clock  the  tall  figure  of  Jim  was  seen 
(or  was  supposed  to  be  seen)  enveloped  in  his  great 
coat,  a  large  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  a  bandanna 
tied  around  his  neck,  coat  collar  and  all,  stalking  up 
to  the  wheel-house.  A  supposed  sore  throat,  the 
effects  of  salivatiom,  was  a  sufficient  reason  for  the 
pilot's  taciturnity  during  the  remainder  of  the  voyage. 

In  my  character  of  doctor,  I  had  had  some  difficult 
duties  to  perform ;  as  an  actor  and  manager,  my  path 
had  not  always  been  strewn  with  roses;  as  a  preacher, 
I  had  perspired  "a  few;"  and  as  a  lawyer,  some 
hard  cases  had  come  under  my  superintendence ;  but 
this  piloting  was  by  far  the  most  difficult  job  I  had 
ever  undertaken  !  It  was  observable  that  while  pass- 
ing over  "  bad  places,"    Capt.  D was  always  in 

the  pilot  house,  which  was  somewhat  strange,  as  Jim 
was  known  to  be  one  of  the  most  careful  and  compe- 
tent pilots  on  the  Mississippi ;  but  this  was  accounted 
for  in  the  fact  that  the  captain  was  young  at  the  busi- 
ness, and  wanted  to  learn  the  river. 

We  arrived  without  accident  at  New  Orleans — and 
I  do  assure  you  I  felt  much  relieved,  myself — though, 
as  a  faithful  physician,  I  felt  it  to  be  my  duty  to  re- 


A    LAPSE  OF    TWENTY    YEARS.  213 

commend  that  poor  Jim,  being  much  worse,  from  his 
constant  attention  to  his  duties  at  the  wheel,  should  be 
sent  to  Dr.  Stone's  hospital  for  a  month.  I  am  happy 
to  say  that  Jim  recovered,  and  was  ready  to  resume 
his  post  in  the  wheel-house  on  the  very  next  trip  of 
the  Vandalia.  He  never  meets  me  without  calling 
OUt,    "  Sol.,  WHO'S  AT  THE  WHEEL  ?" 


A  LAPSE  OF   TWENTY  YEARS. 

The  elderly  and  middle-aged  residents  of  St.  Louis 
all  remember  the  old  theatre  on  Second  street,  between 
Olive  and  Locust  streets,  commonly  known  as  the 
Salt  House.  The  "temple"  was  somewhat  limited 
in  size,  of  a  surety ;  but  it  was  generally  well  filled 
with  well  satisfied  audiences — and  I  have  always  con- 
tended  that  a  small  theatre,  full,  was  far  preferable 
to  a  large  one  half  empty.  No  matter  for  that — it  is 
all  aside  from  the  purpose  of  my  story,  which  ia 
intended  to  record  one  of  the  most  singular  coinci- 
dences I  have  ever  known. 

In  the  summer  of  1827,  the  company  of  which  I 
was  then  a  member,  performed  with  great  success  a 
new  drama  entitled  the  "  Gambler's  Fate,  or  A  Lapse 
of  Twenty  Years."  It  took  well  with  the  St. 
Louisans,  and  was  oftentimes  repeated. 

On  one  occasion,  when  this  thrilling  drama  was 
announced,  two  young  men,  just  enlisted  for  a  trip  to 
the  mountains  in  the  Fur  Company's  service,  attended 
the  theatre  to  witness  the  performance.  At  the  end 
of  the  first  act,  they  got  impatient  at  the  length  of 

18* 


214  ANECDOTICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 

time  the  curtain  was  suffered  to  remain  down,  and 
concluded  to  go  out  and  take  a  drink.  Another 
drink  followed,  and  then  another. 

"  Come,  Jim,"  said  one,  "  let's  return  to  the 
theatre;  the  curtain  must  be  up  by  this  time." 

"No,"  replied  the  other,  "look  here — just  read 
that  bill,  will  you  ? — Between  the  1st  and  2d  acts 
twenty  years  are  supposed  to  elapse." 

"  Thunder  and  gunpowder !"  exclaimed  Joe,  the 
liquor  beginning  to  assert  its  power — "  who's  gwine 
to  wait  twenty  years  ?  Let's  go  back  to  the  Green 
Tree  Tavern  and  retire  to  our  virtuous  beds,  for  to- 
morrow we  start  for  the  mountains." 

"Agreed,"  says  Jim,  and  off  they  went.  They 
slept  off  the  effects  of  the  "drink,"  and  next  day  the 

party  to  which  they  belonged  moved  westward. 

*  *  *  * 

[A  Lapse  of  Twenty  Years.] 

*  *  *  * 

1847.  Two  middle  aged  individuals  are  seen  read- 
ing a  large  poster  at  the  "  Green  Tree."  Rough 
looking  customers  they  are,  and  look  toil-worn  and 
browned  by  the  weather,  but  hardy  and  honest. 
They  are  our  old  friends,  who,  twenty  years  ago,  went 
to  see  the  Gambler's  Fate,  and  retired  at  the  end  of 
the  first  act.'  Singularly  enough,  there  is  the  same 
play  announced  !  "  The  G-amblers  Fate,  or  A  Lapse 
of  Twenty  Years." 

Our  trappers  agree  at  once  to  go  and  see  the  rest 
ont. 

They  make  their  way  up  Second  street  until  they 
come  to  about  the  spot  where  the  theatre  stood,  and 
then  inquire  of  a  passer-by  for  directions,  which  are 


A    LAPSE    OF   TWENTY   YEARS.  215 

speedily  given,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  find  them- 
selves in  the  vestibule  of  the  theatre  on  Third  street. 

"Hollo!  old  feller,"  says  Joe,  addressing  the 
ticket  seller  through  a  hole — "  they  play  the  '  Gam- 
bler's Fate'  here  to-night,  don't  they?" 

"Well,  they  don't  play  anything  else,"  was  the 
polite  reply  of  the  gentlemanly  treasurer. 

"All  right,  old  feller,"  replied  Joe;  "I  don't 
want  to  see  anything  else ;  though  I  believe  you  ad- 
vertise a  farce  with  it.     Is  the  first  act  over?" 

"  I  believe  it  is,"  answered  the  clerk. 

"  All  right  again — we  only  want  to  see  the  second 
act ;  we  saw  the  other  some  time  ago.  What's  the 
price  of  tickets  now?" 

"  The  same  as  a  while  ago — seventy-five  cents." 

"What,  now — and  one  act  over?" 

"Exactly — one  act  over?" 

"But,"  expostulated  Joe,  who  did  all  the  talking, 
while  Jim  stood  a  little  back  and  chewed  tobacco, 
"  we've  paid  once  before  for  seeing  this  piece,  and 
only  stayed  for  the  first  act." 

"Can't  help  that,  my  friend,"  replies  the  imper- 
turbable ticket  seller;   "we  have  but  one  price." 

"  Well,  hand  out  two  tickets  for  up  stairs."  The 
tickets  were  handed  out,  the  money  being  first  handed 
in,  and  the  two  trappers  entered  the  house.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  curtain  was  raised,  and  the  moun- 
taineers finished  seeing  the  "  Gambler's  Fate,"  the 
first  act  of  which  they  had  seen  twenty  years  before, 
in  the  same  city,  though  not  in  the  same  theatre,  and 
with  only  one  person  in  the  cast  who  had  played  in 
it  on  the  previous  occasion.  In  effect,  our  v<>y<i<jeur8 
witnessed  this  play  with  a  "real  lapse"  of  twenty 
years  between  the  acts. 


216  ANECDOTICAL   RECOLLECTIONS. 


AN  INTIMATE  FRIEND. 

There  is  a  class  of  individuals  'who  claim  to  know 
everybody.  Actors  particularly,  and  particularly 
great  actors,  are  their  most  familiar  companions. 
Macready,  Forrest  and  Booth  are  their  most  valued 
professional  friends — they  have  known  them. so  long, 
and  so  intimately — interchanged  so  many  civilities 
with  them — been  in  their  society  under  so  many  pecu- 
liar circumstances — indeed,  they  have  known  them 
from  childhood — they  consider  them  as  brothers  ! 

In  1844  one  of  this  class  happened  to  be  passenger 
on  the  "  Scott,"  on  her  trip  from  New  Orleans  to  St. 
Louis,  during  the  month  of  March.  He  was  a  jolly 
fellow,  full  of  anecdote,  and  always  ready  with  his 
joke,  conundrum,  repartee  or  pun.  Snatches  of  the 
fashionable  negro  songs — called,  for  fashion's  sake", 
Ethiopian  melodies — quaint  sayings,  and  quotations 
from  Shakspeare,  were  at  his  tongue's  end ;  he  was 
the  life  of  the  social  hall.  Not  knowing  his  real 
name,  we  will  call  him  Spriggins. 

The  great  tragedian,  Macready,  had  been  perform- 
ing an  engagement  at  the  St.  Charles  Theatre,  and 
he  was,  of  course,  the  subject  of  conversation  in  the 
cabin  of  all  steamboats  leaving  New  Orleans.  Sprig- 
gins  had,  according  to  his  own  account,  attended  the 
theatre  every  night  Macready  had  acted. 

"His  Macbeth  was  great,"  said  Spriggins,  joining 
in  a  conversation  by  the  stove  in  the  social  hall, 
where  the  passengers  were  picking  their  teeth  and 
smoking — "  his  Hamlet  superb,  and  his  Werner  mag- 


t 


AN    INTIMATE    FRIEND.  217 

nificent !     I  have  freqnently  said  to  him,  at  supper, 
after  he  has  been  personating  the  latter  character" — ■ 

"You  know  him,  then?"  interrupted  a  passenger, 
who  was  at  the  moment  lighting  a  cigar  by  Sprig- 
gins's. 

"  Know  him  ? — know  Bill  Macready  ?  Well  I 
should  rather  think  I  do  I — intimately — intimately 
— spent  most  of  my  leisure  time  with  him  while  he 
was  in  Orleans.  It  was  by  my  advice  he  came  out 
to  the  south." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  indeed — it  was  a  lucky  thing  for  the 
managers,  that  I  happened  to  be  in  New  York  on  his 
arrival  from  England — he  never  would  have  visited 
the  south  had  it  not  been  for  me." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  in  private  life  ?"  in- 
quired a  gentleman. 

"Oh!"  replied  Spriggins,  "he  is  devilish  haughty 
and  austere  to  strangers,  but  in  his  intercourse  with 
friends,  he  is  a  very  companionable  sort  of  a  fellow, 
I  assure  vou." 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Forrest  ?"  asked  a 
passenger. 

"  Acquainted  with  him  ? — Ned  Forrest  ?  Have 
known  him  since  he  was  a  boy ;  we  were  schoolmates 
in  Philadelphia — saw  him  make  his  first  appearance 
as  Young  Norval  at  the  Chesnut  street ;  it  was  by  my 
advice  he  adopted  the  stage  as  a  profession.  Great 
man,  Ned  is,  but  after  seeing  Macready,  one  doesn't 
relish  Ned's  acting  as  formerly  ;  he  is  all  very  well  as 
Metamora  and  Jack  Cade,  but  when  he  attempts 
Shaksperian  characters" — Spriggins  concluded  this 
criticism  by  shaking  his  head  and  slightly  shuddering, 


218  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

as  a  man   does   when  he  has  just  taken   a  dose  of 
salts. 

"  Did  you  see  him  act  during  his  late  engagement 
at  the  St.  Charles?"  asked  one. 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  replied  Spriggins — "  though  I  like 
Ned,  I  couldn't  persuade  myself  to  undergo  his  sten- 
torian inflictions.  He  called  to  see  me  once  or  twice, 
and  I  dined  with  him  three  times,  I  believe,  and  that's 
the  extent  of  our  intercourse  this  season." 

Spriggins  went  on  chatting  about  actors  and  ac- 
tresses till  near  dinner  time — giving  very  amusing 
accounts  of  their  adventures  during  his  long  and  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  them.  He  knew  them  all 
'-'  like  a  book."  The  southern  managers  were  under 
great  obligations  to  him  for  advice — indeed  they  very 
seldom  made  any  engagement  of  consequence  without 
consulting  him.  He  knew  all  the  stars  and  principal 
stock  actors  and  actresses.  He  had  been  the  prime 
agent  in  getting  up  most  of  the  complimentary  bene- 
fits— he  had  written  nearly  all  of  the  criticisms  and 
puffs  that  had  appeared  in  the  New  Orleans  papers 
during  the  past  theatrical  season ;  in  short,  if  his 
veracity  might  be  relied  on,  he  was  the  connecting 
link  between  the  public  and  the  theatre;  and  to  a 
casual  observer,  it  would  be  a  matter  of  wonder  how 
theatrical  affairs  could  proceed  for  a  single  week  with- 
out him. 

Who  was  he  ? 

He  knew  everybody  connected  with  the  stage,  or 
who  had  been  connected  with  it  during  the  last 
twenty  years.  He  dined  with  Mr.  Caldwell  twice  a 
week — it  was  by  his  advice  that  gentleman  had  built 
the  old  St.  Charles.     "We  have  already  seen  that  he 


AN    INTIMATE    FRIEND.  219 


was  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  the  two  great  trage- 
dians of  the  age.  Before  the  ringing  of  the  dinner 
hell,  the  congregated  passengers  in  the  social  hall 
became  aware  that  a  few  of  the  more  humble  followers 
of  Thespis  were  also  honored  with  Mr.  Spriggins' 
acquaintance  and  limited  regard.  In  reply  to  ques- 
tions judiciously  propounded  by  the  cigar  smokers,  it 
became  known  that  the  season  at  New  Orleans  had 
closed,  and  that  the  company  were  about  leaving  for  St. 
Louis — that  lie  was  bound  for  the  same  city,  but  he  had 
declined  the  invitation  of  Bill  Macready,  Jim  Ryder, 
Joe  Field,  Jack  Weston,  and  Sol.  Smith,  to  go  with 
them  in  the  "J.  M.  White,"  in  consequence  of  being 
obliged  to  stop  on  the  way  at  several  towns  on  the 
river.  "Besides,"  he  observed,  "it  is  a  relief  to  be 
by  one's  self  during  a  journey  of  this  kind — for  I 
knew  how  it  would  be  if  I  went  with  them — long  sit- 
tings over  the  wine  bottle  after  dinner,  late  suppers, 
tedious  stories  and  professional  reminiscences — I  am 
such  a  favorite  with  them  all,  that  I  should  be  bored 
to  death  with  their  attentions." 

The  bell  rung  out  the  summons  to  dinner.  After 
the  cloth  had  been  removed,  it  was  observed  that  five 
gentlemen  remained,  enjoying  their  wine,  at  the  mid- 
dle of  the  table.  Spriggins  cast  a  wistful  look  to- 
wards the  party,  but  did  not  venture  to  move  his  chair 
up  to  the  place  occupied  by  the  bon  vivants.  One  of 
the  five — a  reverend-looking/  individual — observing 
that  a  gentleman  lingered  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
table,  after  a  short  whispering  consultation  with  his 
companions,  sent  the  steward  with  the  compliments  of 
the  party,  and  a  request  that  Spriggins  would  honor 
them  with  his  company  and  partake  of  a  glass  of  wine 


220        ANECDOTICAL  RECOLLECTIONS. 


with  them.  He  accepted  the  invitation  with  alacrity, 
and  was  soon  the  merriest  of  the  group.  During  the 
"  sitting,"  Spriggins  imparted  the  information  that 
he  was  connected  with  the  press,  and  that  he  was  on  a 
tour  through  the  river  towns  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
creasing the  circulation  of  one  of  the  New  Orleans 
papers.  He  might  proceed  as  far  as  St.  Louis — Bill 
Macready  was  going  to  that  place,  and  didn't  know 
how  he  could  get  along  in  a  city  so  far  west  without 
some  friend  to  take  care  of  him  ;  but  he  didn't  see — 
he  didn't — how  people  could  expect  people  to  leave 
their  business,  to  attend  to  other  people's  business ; 
Jim  Ryder  had  insisted  on  his  going;  Joe  Field  had 
expressed  a  great  desire  that  he  would  go,  and  assist 
him  to  establish  his  projected  new  paper — Jack 
Weston  had  said  he  must  go,  and  Old  Sol.  wouldn't 
take  no  for  an  answer. 

"  So,"  said  Capt.  Swon,  who  had  just  joined  the 
party,  "you  are  very  well  acquainted  with  these 
actor-folk,  Mr.  Spriggins?" 

"  Acquainted  with  actors  ?  Oh,  no — I  don't  know 
any  of  them — ha  !  ha  !  ha  !"  answered  and  laughed 
Spriggins,  winking  at  the  wine  drinkers  all  round — 
"never  met  any  of  them  in  all  my  life  !" 

At  this  moment,  the  clerk  of  the  boat  happened  to 
be  passing  by  that  section  of  the  table  where  the 
party  were  enjoying  themselves. 

"What's  that  you  say,  Mr.  Spriggins? — not  know 
any  of  the  actors  !"  said  he.  "  Allow  me  to  introduce 
you  to  a  few :  Mr.  Macready,  Mr.  Spriggins — Mr. 
Ryder,  Mr.  Field— Mr.  Weston,  Mr.  Sol.  Smith- 
Mr.  Spriggins  ! — Spriggins— Macready — Vfeston — 
Spriggins — Field — Ryder — Spriggins."      The   pavty 


THE    FATIIER   OF    THE    AMERICAN    STAGE.         221 

rose  to  do  honor  to  the  introduction — all  but  Sprig- 
gins,  who  sat  in  his  chair,  holding  a  wine  glass  midway 
between  the  table  and  his  mouth,  the  very  picture  of 
astonishment. 

"  Steward !"  faltered  Spriggins,  when  he  found 
the  use  of  his  tongue,  "  bring  forward  my  trunk — I 
get  out  at  Natchez." 

He  did  get  out  at  Natchez,  and  I  have  been  told 
that  he  now  stoutly  denies  ever  having  been  ac- 
quainted with  any  member  of  the  theatrical  profes- 
sion. ***** 


THE  FATHER  OF  THE  AMERICAN   STAGE. 

(written  in  1845.) 

Andrew  Jackson  Allen  claims  to  be  the  father 
of  the  American  Stage  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  supposes 
he  has  been  on  the  American  Stage  a  longer  period 
than  any  other  actor  now  living.  This  may  be  true. 
I  have  seen  his  name  in  the  bills,  and  his  person  on 
the  stage  as  long  ago  as  1815.  He  was  Andrew  Al- 
len then — the  Jackson  has  since  been  acquired — how, 
I  do  not  pretend  to  say ;  but  I  believe  it  was  laid  hold 
of  by  and  conceded  to  him  by  the  world,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  able  manner  in  which  he  "got  up" 
the  Battle  of  Neiv  Orleans,  at  his  benefit,  soon  after 
the  news  arrived  of  the  grand  affair  at  New  Orleans, 
performed  on  the  8th  of  January  of  the  above  named 
year. 

The  first  character  I  saw  performed  by  the  subject 

19 


222  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  this  sketch,  was  the  Laird  of  Raissy,  in  the  opera 
of  the  "  Highland  Reel."  I  next  saw  him  in  a  raw- 
head-and-bloodj. bones  mixture  of  pantomime  and 
melo-drama,  entitled  the  "  Black  Castle,  or  the  Dis- 
tressed Maiden,"  in  which  he  enacted  an  extremely 
savage-looking  confidential  servant  to  a  villainous 
usurper,  with  a  slouched  hat,  overhanging  feathers, 
broad  belt,  with  a  very  wide  brass  buckle  in  front, 
short  sword  and  wide-sleeved  gauntlets ;  and  it  was 
his  peculiar  province  to  attempt  all  the  assassinations 
— to  be  most  unmercifully  beaten  by  men  with  clubs, 
and  other  rescuers  of  innocence  ;  and  to  cry  "  Con- 
fusion !  foiled  again  !"  and  rash  off,  shaking  his  dag- 
ger at  the  audience,  and  with  a  look  at  his  intended 
victim  which  indicated,  as  plainly  as  looks  can  indi- 
cate, that  it  wouldn't  be  well  for  the  aforesaid  intended 
victim  to  let  him  catch  her  alone  again  ;  that's  all  ! 
He  made  a  great  impression  on  me  ;  and  afterwards, 
when  I  saw  him  in  Abeelino,  the  great  bandit,  through 
the  knot-hole  of  a  pine  board  under  the  boxes,  where 
I  had  stationed  myself  in  the  afternoon  before  the 
doors  were  opened,  my  admiration  was  excited  to  the 
highest  pitch  !  This  was  in  the  old  Albany  Theatre, 
in  Green  Street. 

In  the  winter  of  1816,  the  present  father  of  the 
American  Stage  became  the  sole  proprietor  of  the 
Shakspeare  House,  nearly  opposite  the  theatre,  pre 
viously  occupied  by  one  Morse,  afterwards  proprietoi 
of  a  Shakspeare  Hotel  adjoining  the  Park  Theatre, 
New  York.  Ho  still  continued  to  act  in  the  theatre, 
playing  stern  villains  and  clowns.  He  took  a  benefit, 
and  paid  off  an  immense  amount  of  debts,  in  tickets, 
leading  each  creditor  to  suppose  that  he  was  the  only 


THE    FATHER    OF    THE    AMERICAN    STAGE.        223 

one  who  could  be  paid,  and  assuring  him  that  the 
tickets  could  be  easily  disposed  of.  It  leaked  out 
during  the  day,  that  everybody  had  tickets  for  sale, 
and  the  price  fell  to  almost  nothing.  I  purchased  a 
box  ticket  for  six  cents,  and  by  planting  myself  at 
the  door  at  4  o'clock,  was  one  of  the  fifteen  hundred 
that  were  shoved  into  the  house.  The  three  or  four 
thousand  outsiders  amused  themselves  by  kicking  up 
all  sorts  of  rumpusses  in  the  street.  The  "father"  did 
not  care  for  all  this — he  had  the  receipted  bills  of  his 
creditors  in  his  pocket. 

Having  paid  all  his  debts  in  Albany,  he  proceeded 
to  New  York,  where  he  engaged  in  the  Park  Theatre, 
and  was  moderately  successful  in  his  slouched  hat, 
broad  buckle  and  short  sword  characters,  until  his 
creditors — for  he  had  a  way  of  getting  in  debt  per- 
fectly surprising  to  young  beginners — became  some- 
what impatient  and  troublesome.  One,  in  particular, 
determined  to  try  the  virtue  of  a  cajrias  ad  respon- 
dendam,  and  employed  a  well-known  and  afterwards 
celebrated  constable,  by  the  name  of  Hays,  to  execute 
the  same  on  the  body  of  Father  Allen.  I  may  as  well 
here  state  two  things — first,  my  hero  was,  and  is,  par- 
tially deaf;  and  secondly,  he  has  a  way  of  speaking 
which  conveys  the  idea  that  he  is  always  laboring 
under  the  effects  of  a  bad  cold  in  his  head,  without  a 
pocket  handkerchief  to  help  himself  with.  The  reader 
will  please  bear  these  things  in  mind. 

Young  Hays  (lie  was  then  young)  found  Father 
Allen  on  the  Park  Theatre  steps.  "  Good  morning," 
said  he,  saluting  the  actor  very  civilly,  but  speaking 
in  a  very  loud    voice,    for   he  knew  the   actor's  in- 


224  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

firmity,  and  pulling  out  ;i  small  bit  of  paper, — "your 
name  is  Allen,  I  believe?" 

"  Yes,  Addrew  Jacksod  Ailed,  at  your  service," 
replied  the  debtor,  supposing  the  officer  was  an  appli- 
cant for  a  front  seat  in  the  dress  circle — "what  cad  I 
do  for  you,  by  friedd?"  continued  he,  patronizingly, 
as  he  gently  tapped  the  ashes  from  his  cigar.  "It  is 
by  bedefit,  you  see — Battle  of  Lake  Erie,  sir,  with 
real  water — great  expedse — fide  play — '  we  have  met 
the  edeby  add  they  are  ours,'  you  kdow — lots  of  doble 
ships,  flags,  guds  add  smoke — look  at  the  bill,  sir." 

"  That's  just  what  I  want  you  to  do,"  replied  the 
officer — "  here  is  a  bill  I  want  you  to  examine,  and 
here  is  a  writ  requiring  that  I  shall  take  your  body 
forthwith  before  a  squire." 

It  was  useless  to  attempt  to  misunderstand  this 
plain  explanation,  for  if  he  could  not  hear  very  well, 
he  could  see  as  well  as  anybody — and  it  was  equally 
useless  to  attempt  to  escape — so,  after  quietly  examin- 
ing the  papers,  the  benejiciaire  of  the  evening  gave  a 
puff  or  two  more  at  his  cigar,  and  then,  with  a  nod  of 
the  head,  intimated  that  he  understood  the  whole  affair. 

"  Let's  see — yes,  sevedty-two  dollars,  exactly  ; 
cursed  ill-datured  of  by  friedd  Thobsod  to  trouble  you 
with  this  busidess — I  idtedded  to  pay  it  out  of  by  bedefit 
bodey  to-borrow ;  but  dever  bind,  step  idto  Bister 
Sibsod's  roob,  with  be,  and  I"ll  hadd  you  the  aboudt." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  answered  Kays,  and  he  foilowed 
the  defendant  into  the  theatre  through  a  private  door. 
I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  route  they  took, 
but  it  is  said  the  officer  was  led  up  and  down  numer- 
ous stairways,  over  divers  stagings,  and  through  many 
dark  passages  and  underground  vaults,  until  he  was 


THE   FATHER    OF   THE    AMERICAN    STAGE.        225 

completely  bewildered.  At  length,  in  the  midst  of 
darkness,  he  was  requested  by  his  conductor  to  "  hold 
on  a  minute."  "  Here's  Bister  Sibsod's  roob,"  said 
he — "  wait  here  till  I  see  if  he  is  at  leisure."  The 
officer  stopped  stock  still,  as  desired,  for  he  had  no 
idea  which  way  to  move,  and  waited  patiently  for  the 
return  of  his  prisoner,  whose  retreating  steps  told  him 
that  Mr.  Simpson's  room  was  not  so  near  to  where 
he  stood  as  he  had  supposed.  After  waiting  for 
about  ten  minutes,  he  began  to  call  the  name  of  his 
prisoner  in  a  loud  voice.  Suddenly  a  trap  door 
opened  immediately  above  his  head,  and,  looking  up, 
he  distinctly  saw  Allen's  face,  lit  up  with  a  most 
benevolent  smile.  "  Well,"  inquired  the  officer, 
"have  you  found  Simpson?"  "Do,  by  friedd,  I 
havd't  yet  foudd  that  worthy  gedtlebad,  but  I  do 
dot  despair  of  beidg  able  to  beet  with  hib  sobe  tibe 
this  evedidg ;  be  so  good  as  to  wait  there,  by  idterest- 
idg  friedd,  while  I  take  a  good  look  for  hib — it  is 
bore  thad  likely  I  shall  sec  hib  sobewhere  betweed 
here  add  Philadelphia,  for  which  city  I  ab  about 
ebbarkidg." 

"Embarking  for  Philadelphia!"  fiercely  exclaimed 
the  officer — "no  you  don't!  you  are  my  prisoner,  and 
must  not  move." 

"By  dear  friedd,  "  replied  Allen,  who  had  not 
heard  a  word  the  officer  had  said,  but  saw  by  his 
movements  he  was  inclined  to  leave  the  place  where 
he  had  located  him,  "you'd  better  dot  stir  frob  that 
spot  till  sobe  of  the  labplighters  arrive  ;  for  if  you  do, 
idasbuch  as  there  are  trap  doors  all  roudd  you,  you'll 
fall  forty  feet  or  so,  add  that  bight  hurt  you,  you 
kdow."     The  trap  door  was  closed  with  a  loud  noise, 

19* 


226  ANECDOTICAL   RECOLLECTIONS. 

and  the  next  that  was  heard  of  Father  Allen,  he  was 
getting  up  an  immense  nautical  piece,  called  "  The 
Battle  of  Lake  Ohamplain,"  in  Philadelphia.  I  have 
never  learned  how  the  constable  <_rot  out  of  the  theatre, 
but  I  presume  he  was  turned  out.  The  return  on 
his  writ  was,  "  Executed  by  taking  in  custody  the 
defendant,  who  escaped  by  misleading  me  into  the 
devil's  church,  and  leaving  me  to  get  out  the  best  way 
I  could." 

The  next  I  heard  of  the  father  he  was  manager  of 
a  theatre  in  Pensacola,  where  he  played  Abaslino  and 
Caleb  Quotem  with  great  success.  In  1822  he  was 
in  Cincinnati,  where  I  was  editing  a  paper,  and  he 
was  then  engaged  in  sending  up  a  series  of  balloons, 
in  opposition  to  one  Mons.  Dumileau,  and  appealing 
in  his  advertisements  to  the  patriotic  feelings  of  the 
Cincinnatians  to  sustain  his  balloons,  on  the  ground 
that  they  were  the  true  American  article,  while  those 
of  Dumileau's  were  decidedly  French. 

He  went  into  Virginia,  causing  balloons  to  ascend 
from  every  village.  At  one  of  his  stands  he  found 
great  difficulty  in  collecting  together  the  proper 
materials  for  generating  gas  ;  nevertheless  he  adver- 
tised that  the  exhibition  would  take  place  ;  and  pro- 
viding a  quantity  of  the  spirits  of  turpentine  to  burn 
under  the  balloon,  hired  a  large  garden,  into  which 
the  Virginians  flocked  in  great  numbers,  each  paying 
fifty  cents  at  the  gate.  When  the  hour  of  ascension 
arrived,  the  exhibiter  found  that  with  all  his  exertions 
it  would  be  impossible  to  cause  the  balloon  to  mount ! 
He  had  a  number  of  juvenile  assistants,  who  were 
busy  about  the  inner  enclosure,  and  to  them  he  ad- 


THE    FATHER    OF    THE    AMERICAN    STAGE.       227 

dressed  himself,  first  handing  an  old  bull's  eyed  watch 
to  the  largest  boy —         • 

"  Look  here,  by  boys — I've  got  to  go  add  purchase 
sobe  bore  sulphuric  acid — you  take  this  watch,  add 
whed  the  hadd  poidts  at  the  hour  of  two,  set  fire  to 
this  here  turpedtide — do  you  hear  ?" 

The  boys  said  they  did  hear,  and  promised  obedience 
The  master  spirit  made  his  way  to  the  gate,  where  ht 
requested  the  door-keeper  to  "  hadd  over  the  fudds, 
as  there  was  such  a  crowd  there  was  do  telling  what 
bight  happed  id  the  bustle."  He  then  mounted  a,  pony 
he  had  wisely  provided  for  the  purpose,  and  gallopped 
off  for  the  drug  store — but  mistaking  the  wav,  he 
found  himself,  at  precisely  two  o'clock,  on  a  very 
high  hill  overlooking  the  scene  of  his  late  operations. 
The  boys  were  true  to  their  promise,  and  communi- 
cated the  fire  to  the  turpentine  at  the  appointed  time, 
the  balloon  went  uj>,  but  it  was  in  small  flaky  frag- 
ments ;  and  the  humbugged  Virginians  began  to  look 
about  for  the  operator — but  in  vain  !  With  $000  in 
his  pockets  he  was  wending  his  way  toward  some  city 
where  gas  could  be  more  easily  generated.  In  giving 
an  account  of  this  affair,  our  venerable  friend  says — 
"  Dab  the  idferdal  ballood  !  I  foudd  there  was  do  use 
id  tryidg  to  bake  it  rise ;  so,  as  I  dislike  bakidg  apolo- 
gies, I  thought  I  would  bake  byself  scarce:  Whed  I 
got  od  that  hill  add  looked  back,  the  boys  had  set  fire 
to  the  ballood,  add  such  a  sboke  rose  up  ! — the  whole 
village  appeared  to  be  od  fire — d — d  if  it  didd't 
look  like  a  youdg  JN.xlob  add  Goborrow  !" 

When  Mr.  Edwin  Forrest  began  to  rise  in  his  pro- 
fession, Allen  determined  to  rise  with  him,  and  at- 
tached himself  to  that  tragedian  as  costumer,  in  which 


228  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

capacity,  and  that  of  a  fighting  gladiator,  he  traversed 
this  country  and  Great  Britain,  always  taking  to 
himself  a  full  share  of  credit  for  "the  boy's"  success; 
"for,"  said  he,  "what  would  be  the  use  of  taledt 
without  the  proper  costube  ?"  I  am  not  informed  of 
the  ca^use  of  separation,  but  certain  it  is  the  great 
tragedian  has  managed  to  "get  on"  without  the  aid 
of  the  father  of  the  American  Stage,  for  several  years 
past.  Thrown  on  his  own  resources,  we  find  he  is 
still  true  to  himself  and  his  country,  as  will  more 
fully  appear  by  the  following  proclamation,  which  I 
find  in  a  late  New  York  Mirror,  and  which  I  append 
as  a  proper  winding  up  to  this  somewhat  lengthy  no- 
tice of  a  truly  great  man,  (in  his  way,)  and  with  the 
hope  that  the  Father  of  the  American  Stage 
may  reap  some  benefit  from  its  widely  extended  cir- 
culation : 

|^»    HUMBUGS   AVAUNT !  !  !  -@g 

1  am  not  dead  yet:  ingratitude  has  not  killed  me — thanks  to 
a  clear  conscience  and  a  pair  of  silver  leather  breeches.  All  I  want 
is  work,  that  I  may  thrive  by  my  industry,  pay  my  debts,  and  die, 
as  I  always  have  lived,  an  honest  man. 

The  subscriber  has  resumed  his  old  vocation  of  costumer,  fancy 
dress  maker,  and  manufacturer  of  his  unapproachable  gilt  and  silver 
leather,  (for  which  he  received  letters  patent  in  1817,  and  which  he 
has  since  improved  100  per  cent.)  It  can  be  applied  to  the  follow- 
ing uses  :  theatrical  and  equestrian  dresses  and  trappings,  ladies'  ball 
slippers,  albums,  portfolios,  pocket  books,  hat  leathers,  coach  trimmings, 
iu  short  every  variety  of  fancy  and  ornamental  work,  25  per  cent, 
less  than  it  can  be  obtained  anywhere  else,  and  100  per  cent,  bet- 
ter.      Warranted  to  last  for  years. 

Masonic  and  /.   O.  of  0.  F.  Regalia  made  to  order. 

Tlieatrical  and  equestrian  managers  are  invited  to  call  and  judge 
for  themselves.  A.  J.  A.  is  a  classical  and  legitimate  costumer,  and 
has  followed  the  art  fur  over  10  years,  both  in  his  native  country,  {our 


COURT    OF    UNCOMMON    PLEAS.  229 


beloved  America,')  and  in  Europe,  and  he  challenges  competition.  Mr. 
A.  makes  helmets,  masks,  aud  all  kinds  of  paper  7nachee  work,  and 
stage  properties  of  every  description  from  a  penny  whistle  to  a  Bas- 
ket Elephant. 

All  orders  thankfully  received,  and  faithfully  executed,  by  the 
public's  humble  and  obedient  servant, 

Andrew  Jackson  Allen, 
No.  1,  Mulberry  street,  (1st  floor,) 
Opposite  the  Chatham  Theatre. 
Gentlemen  and  children's  clothes  made  in  the  most  substantial 
and  fashionable  style — gentlemen  finding  their  own  cloth. 

P.  S. — For  16  years  Mr.    A.   made  all   E.  Forrest's  theatrical 
wardrobe.* 


COURT  OF  UNCOMMON  PLEAS. 


Temperance    ^ indictment   for    whiskey    drinking 
James"  Green    I       out  uf  a  ™' 


If  the  reader  has  travelled  much  in  the  West, 
he  has  witnessed  the  proceedings  of  self-constituted 
courts  on  the  boiler  decks  of  steam  boats.  It  has 
been  the  luck  of  the  writer  of  this  sketch  to  act  as 
Judge  of  many  of  these  dignified  tribunals — conse- 
quently he  has  been  called  on  to  pass  judgment  on 
many  of  his  fellow-travelers  during  the  last  twenty  or 
thirty  years. 

In  the  courts  here  spoken  of  the  jurisdiction  is 
generally  co-extensive  with  the  boats  on  which  they 

»  As  I  send  these  sheets  off  to  the  publisher,  I  learn  that  the 
subject  of  the  foregoing  sketch  has  been  "  called"  to  another  world. 
Peace  be  with  him  !  He  was  the  first  recipient  of  assistance  from 
the  American  Dramatic  Fund,  but  only  lived  to  receive  the  first 
quarter  of  the  annuity  to  which  he  was  entitled. 


230  AXECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 


are  held,  and  it  is  very  seldom  an  individual  is  found 
who  is  fool-hardy  enough  to  call  in  question  their 
powers — hence  the  sentences  are  pretty  generally 
carried  into  effect  without  resistance. 

In  the  summer  of  1844,  when  all  was  "  hurrah  for 
Clay,"  and  "  hurrah  for  Polk,"  a  term  of  the  Court 
of  Uncommon  Pleas  was  "  begun  and  held  "  on  board 
the  good  steamer  White  Cloud,  Capt.  Robards,  during 
her  voyage  from  St.  Louis  to  Louisville. 

After  the  organization  of  the  court  by  the  appoint- 
ment of  Judge,  Prosecuting  Attorney,  Clerk  and 
Sheriff,  proclamation  was  made  by  the  latter  function- 
ary that  all  was  ready  for  business.  The  first  case 
on  the  docket  was  the  one  stated  at  the  head  of  this 
report.  The  defendant,  Green,  a  deck  passenger, 
had  been  delivering  a  temperance  lecture  in  the  cabin, 
and  was  retiring  to  his  quarters  on  the  lower  deck, 
•when  he  was  arrested  by  the  sheriff  and  brought  be- 
fore the  "Honorable  Court."  I  never  saw  a  "priso- 
ner at  the  bar,"  charged  with  murder,  manifest  more 
fear  than  did  this  poor  fellow — the  reason  will  appear 
hereafter.  The  indictment  was  read,  charging  him, 
the  said  Green,  being  at  the  time  a  member  of  a 
temperance  society,  with  having,  "  with  malice  and 
aforethought,"  drank  whiskey  out  of  a  jug — contrary 
to  the  dignity  of  the  temperance  cause,  and  the  inter- 
est of  the  bar-keeper  of  the  White  Cloud,  &c,  &c. 

"  Prisoner,  you  have  heard  the  charge  —  are  you 
guilty,  or  not  guilty  ?" 

"  Not  guilty,"  replied  the  trembling  Green — "  that 
is,  not  very  guilty ;  I  did  take  a  little  bit  of " 

"  Prisoner,  answer  distinctly  to  the  charge — are 
you  guilty,  or  not  guilty?" 


COURT  OF  UNCOMMON  PLEAS.        231 

"  Is  there  any  lawyer  aboard  ?"  asked  the  defend- 
ant, looking  fearfully  at  the  crowd. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Court — "there  are  any  number 
of  them  on  board,  going  to  the  Whig  Convention  at 
Nashville ;  you  are  entitled  to  counsel,  and  the  Court 

assigns  you  L.  V.  B ,  Esq., — so  you  can  unbosom 

yourself  to  him." 

The  worthy  gentleman  named  readily  accepted  the 
appointment,  and  a  jury  being  empanelled,  the  trial 
commenced. 

The  prosecuting  attorney,  (who  was  no  other  than 

my  friend  Col.  A.  B.  C rs,  the  well  known  apostle 

of  temperance,)  made  a  splendid  "opening."  He  in- 
sisted that  intemperance  was  the  unpardonable  sin, 
and  demanded  that  the  jury,  if  convinced  of  the  guilt 
of  the  accused,  should  inflict  the  severest  punishment 
known  to  the  law. 

The  evidence  all  went  to  show  that  the  accused 
had  certainly  committed  the  damning  deed  —  he  had 
most  surely  drank  whiskey — more  than  that,  he  had 
drunk  it  out  of  a  jug  !  There  was  no  getting  round 
it,  or  over  it,  or  under  it — drunk  lie  had — he  had 
drunk  whiskey — and  out — of — a  j-u-g  ! 

The  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  finding  the  fact  could 
not  be  controverted,  endeavored  to  justify  ;  and  went 
into  a  lengthy  argument  to  show  that  the  greatest 
men  in  ancient  and  modern  times  had  been  and  were 
drunkards;  that  the  greatest  literary  efforts  had 
been  inspired  by  the  wine  bottle ;  and  so  far  from  the 
defendant  being  blamable  for  what  he  had  done,  he, 
the  learned  counsel,  contended  that  he  was  deserving 
of  the  highest  commendation. 

A  reply  from  the  prosecuting  attorney  closed  the 


232  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

case,  and  the  jury  were  about  to  retire  to  the  pantry 
to  deliberate  on  their  verdict,  when  the  defendant  ad- 
dressed the  Court : 

"  May  it  please  your  honor,  I  want  to  say  a  few 
words,  if  you've  no  objections." 

"  By  all  means — you  shall  be  heard.  The  defend- 
ant has  a  right  to  be  heard  by  himself  and  counsel ; 
proceed." 

Green,  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  mounted  a 
chair,  (on  the  intimation  of  the  sheriff,)  and  spoke  as 
follows : 

"Mister  Judge,  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  want 
to  say  this  much — I  am  guilty ;  I  don't  justify  the 
drinking  of  the  whiskey,  I  don't.  I  tried  to  persuade 
ray  attorney  not  to  make  that  sort  of  defence,  but  he 
would  do  it.  I  drank  a  leetle  whisky — but  i"  took  it 
for  medicine,  as  I  have  proved  to  you  by  the  doctor 
who  prescribed  it.  I  know  I've  done  wrong — very 
wrong,  and  I  deserve  punishment ;  but  I  beg  and  pray 
this  Honorable  Court  to  have  pity  on  my  wife 
and " 

"  Hast  thou  a  wife  ?"  interrupted  the  Court. 

"I  have,"  replied  the  defendant. 

"And  children  ?" 

"  No ;  no  children  yet,  may  it  please  the  honorable 
Court,  but  my  wife  is  in  a  fix." 

"A  fix?" 

"Yes;  a  fix." 

"  Prisoner,  what  do  you  mean  by  your  wife  being 
in  a  fix?" 

"  Why  your  honor,"  proceeded  the  accused,  "  she 
will  shortly  become  the  mother  of  a  fatherless  orphan, 
if  you  throw  me  overboard." 


KICKING   THE   BUCKET.  233 


"  Throw  you  overboard  !  What  has  put  that  into 
your  head,  prisoner  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  groaned  Green  in  agony,  "  I  know  the  pun- 
ishment of  my  crime ;  my  counsel  has  told  me  all 
about  it.  I'm  to  be  thrown  overboard,  to  prevent  my 
ever  again  drinking  anything  but  cold  water!" 

Finding  the  poor  fellow  took  the  matter  so  seri- 
ously, there  was  a  general  desire  for  his  acquittal. 

The  judge  gave  a  charge  to  the  jury,  full  of  nice 
points  of  law  and  leaning  greatly  towards  the  prisoner. 
Without  leaving  their  seats,  the  jury  returned  the 
following  verdict : 

"  We,  the  jury,  find  the  defendant  not  guilty,  and 
recommend  him  to  mercy.  The  sheriff  to  treat  the 
jury — the  attornies  to  pay  costs,  and  the  judge  to 
fill  the  jug  which  the  defendant  drank  out  of,  and 
which  the  jury  have  emptied  during  the  trial." 

The  defendant,  when  he  heard  the  verdict  read,  fell 
down  on  his  knees  in  thankfulness— renewed  his  tem- 
perance pledge— thanked  the  judge  and  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,-  and  in  his  wife's  name  called  down  bless- 
sings  on  the  whole  crowd. 


KICKING  THE  BUCKET. 

Pulse  140  !—  Whicw  !—  Whurr  ! 

Reader  did  you  ever  have  a  fever  ? — a  regular  built, 
up-and-down  thumping  fever?— a  fever  that  carried 
you  up,  as  it  were,  to  another  existence  ?  I  had  such 
a  fever  in  the  fall  of  1844— September— in  Cincinnati. 

20 


234  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 

I  tried  to  put  it  off.  It  wouldn't  go.  I  went  to  Lou- 
isville in  a  steamboat,  and  endeavoured  to  persuade 
myself  during  the  night,  while  my  pulse  was  rising  and 
my  brain  was  becoming  more  and  more  pressed,  that  1 
should  be  better  in  the  morning.  I  endeavoured  to 
transact  business  in  Louisville,  but  my  questions  and 
replies  were  so  incoherent  that  the  people  stared  at  me 
and  (for  aught  I  know)  thought  I  was  tipsy.  On  the 
return  trip,  all  was  pleasant  enough  in  the  afternoon, 
but  at  night,  and  during  the  long  night,  thump,  thump, 
thump,  went  my  blood  again,  as  though  it  was  deter- 
mined to  burst  through  and  be  free. 

I  found  myself  at  my  brother's  house  on  Fourth 
street,  where  a  room  is  always  reserved  for  me.  I  had 
purchased  some  calomel  and  castor  oil,  on  my  way  up 
from  the  boat,  and  I  went  to  taking  medicine.  It  did 
no  good — the  fever  did  not  diminish  at  all.  At  the 
request  of  my  good  brother  a  homoeopathic  physician 
was  called  in,  who  attended  me,  and  administered  small 
globules  of  something  or  other  for  a  week — two  weeks, 
perhaps — probably  three — "  I  took  no  note  of  time." 
No  change.  My  brothers  and  other  relations  visited 
me  frequently.  I  could  see  by  their  manner  they 
thought  I  must  go.  They  did  not  shake  their  heads, 
but  the  expression  of  their  countenances  did  not  at  all 
conform  to  their  words  of  comfort  and  encouragement. 

My  sense  of  hearing  was  fearfully  acute.  I  could 
hear  them  look!  It  was  plain  enough  I  was  given  up 
— the  doctor  (Dutch  at  that !)  said  he  had  been  called 
too  late ;  if  he  had  only  been  called  in  before  I  had 
taken  the  calomel,  all  would  have  been  well,  but 

With  the  exception  of  a  head-ache,  which  hung  to 
me,  it  was  not  a  disagreeable  month  I  passed  thus. 


KICKING   THE   BUCKET.  235 


The  pressure  on  my  brain  caused  those  about  me  to 
take  the  most  fanciful  forms,  and  to  do  the  drollest 
things  !  The  doctor  appeared  to  dance  into  the  room, 
pour  his  useless  (and  harmless)  medicine  into  water, 
and  present  me  the  tumbler,  dancing  all  the  while  ; 
my  sisters,  my  brothers,  nieces  and  nephews,  all  to 
appearance  about  half  their  real  height,  danced  about 
the  apartment  in  the  most  picturesque  forms,  all  bear- 
ing a  striking  resemblance  to  each  other,  and  all  wear- 
ing wreaths — rocking,  prancing,  bending,  smiling,  and 
attitudinizing  to  the  tune  of — my  pulse.  It  was  very 
pleasant  indeed. 

I  remember  every  occurrence  while  under  the  in- 
fluence of  this  fever,  with  the  utmost  distinctness. 
About  the  18th  day  I  called  the  homoeopathic  doctor 
to  my  bedside  and  told  him  I  had  no  further  occasion 
for  his  services.  He  remonstrated — the  family  re- 
monstrated; but  I  was  firm — I  would  take  no  more  of 
those  little  globules. 

My  friend  Logan  came  to  see  me  every  day.  When 
he  found  the  homoeopathist  had  retired,  he  urged  the 
calling  in  of  one  of  the  regular  physicians.  After 
some  argument  I  consented,  and  Doctor  Shotwell  took 
me  in  hand.  I  could  see  plainly  enough  he  thought 
the  call  had  been  put  off  too  long  ;  but  he  prescribed 
for  me,  and  in  one  week  I  was  able  to  sit  up  an  hour 
at  a  time — in  two  weeks  I  could  walk,  and  in  less  than 
three  I  embarked  for  St.  Louis — my  home. 

When  I  began  to  write  this  article  I  intended  to  de- 
scribe some  of  my  singular  fancies — but  I  shall  con- 
fine myself  to  one  strange  fancy  I  took  into  my  fever- 
ish head. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  possibly  my  friends  might  be 


236  ANECDOTICAL    RECOLLECTIONS. 


right,  and  that  I  was  doomed  to  kick  the  bucket  sure 
enough.  I  was  away  from  home — my  affairs  were  un- 
settled— no  preparations  made  for  such  a  feat — but  yet, 
I  thought  my  time  had  possibly  come  !  The  idea  was 
not  at  all  unpleasant.  I  had  shaken  off  all  care  of 
business,  having  placed  it  in  competent  hands,  and  my 
only  uneasiness  arose  from  the  trouble  I  was  giving 
my  kind  nurses.  I  took  up  the  idea  that,  if  I  must 
kick  the  bucket,  I  might  as  well  do  it  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  when  most  of  the  family  were  asleep,  so 
that  in  the  morning  they  would  find  all  was  over  with 
me,  and  the  disagreeable  part  of  the  business  would 
be  past.  I  kept  thinking  of  this,  and  constantly  con- 
tinued to  contrive  out  ways  and  means  to  effect  my 
designs  without  causing  trouble  to  the  family.  I 
knew  that  if  I  asked  for  a  bucket  to  kick,  they  would 
refuse  to  let  me  have  it ;  so  I  pretended  every  night 
that  I  wanted  water  to  bathe  my  feet  in,  and  when  I 
had  finished  bathing  them  I  always  asked  the  girl  to 
leave  the  bucket  on  a  chair  beside  my  bed  !  And 
there  I  lay  night  after  night,  waiting  for  the  time  to 
come  when  I  should  kick  the  bucket  without  troubling 
any  one !  In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  would  laugh 
heartily  at  my  cunning  contrivance — keeping  the 
bucket  all  the  time  within  kicking  distance  of  my  right 
foot,  and  chuckling  at  the  idea  of  what  a  splash  I 
would  make  when  I  should  give  my  last  kick! 


DEFENCE  OF  THE  STAGE. 


A   FRIENDLY   LETTER    TO   THE   REV.   DR. 
BEECHER,  OF  CINCINNATI,  OHIO. 

Boston,  Sunday  Evening,  Aug.  13,  1843. 

Sir — The  newspapers  have  given  the  substance  of 
a  discourse  delivered  by  you  at  the  Tremont  Theatre, 
soon  after  that  building  came  into  the  possession  of 
its  present  proprietors.  When  that  discourse  was 
delivered,  I  was  in  St.  Louis,  nearly  one  thousand 
miles  from  Boston.  Business  has  brought  me  here, 
and  I  take  leave  to  address  you  a  few  lines  on  the 
subject  of  your  address,  conceiving  there  are  some 
parts  of  it,  if  correctly  reported,  somewhat  excep- 
tionable— at  least,  likely  to  be  so  considered  by  mem- 
bers of  the  theatrical  profession. 

I  make  no  apology  for  addressing  you  through  the 
columns  of  the  press.  We  are  personally  unac- 
quainted with  each  other ;  and  to  be  plain  with  you — 
for  "bluntness  is  my  trade" — I  am  not  very  desirous 
of  an  introduction.  You  are  a  preacher  of  the  Gos- 
pel— /am  nothing  but  an  actor — and  a  poor  one,  at 
that,  in  every  sense  of  the  word  ;  —  You  are  in  posses- 
sion of  a  princely  income,  as  payment  for  advocating 
the  cause  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus — /  am  strug- 
gling for  a  precarious  subsistence  in  my  capacity  of  a 

20*  (237) 


238  DEFENCE  OF  THE  STAGE. 

stage-player — occasionally  adding  a  little  to  my  in- 
come by  appearing  "  in  the  character"  of  a  lawyer 
in  our  courts  of  justice.  I  may  add  that  you  stand 
at  the  head  of  a  powerful  sect  of  professing  Christians 
in  the  United  States,  while  I  am  content  to  claim 
membership  in  the  lowest  rank  of  artists  called  his- 
trions.  I  presume  if  I  were  to  seek  a  conversation 
with  you  at  your  splendid  mansion,  I  should  be 
spurned  from  your  door,  as  unworthy  to  press  your 
carpet  with  my  unhallowed  feet — the  name  of  "  Sol. 
Smith,  the  actor,"  announced  in  your  study,  would 
probably  be  the  signal  for  bolting  your  door — indeed, 
if  the  report  of  your  discourse  at  the  Tremont  be  a 
true  one — and  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  it  is — 
you  must  entertain  a  "lodged  hate" — a  "certain 
loathing,"  for  all  poor  sinners  of  our  class.  There- 
fore it  is  that  I  do  not  seek  a  personal  interview,  but 
say  what  I  have  to  say,  thus  publicly. 

You  are  represented  to  have  made  your  "first  ap- 
pearance on  the  Tremont  boards"  before  a  "house 
crowded  from  pit  to  gallery;"  and  it  is  said  you  "re- 
turned thanks  to  Almighty  God  for  having  changed 
the  place,  which  was  once  the  seat  of  Satan  and  his 
works,  into  Christ's  Holy  Temple  ;"  and  prayed  that 
"all  theatres  might  soon  become  temples  of  God; 
and  that  Satan,  their  great  head,  might  immediately 
be  driven  back  to  his  appropriate  home,  the  bottom- 
less pit."  You  are  said  to  have  dwelt  particularly 
upon  the  "bad  character  of  actors  and  actresses," 
and  to  have  asserted  of  theatres  that  "  there  was  no 
redeeming  quality  about  them — they  were  evil,  and 
that  continually — they  were  the  fruitful  source  of  all 
vice — [all !] — the  great  social  exchange  where  sinners 


239  LETTER   TO    DR.    BEECHER. 


of  all  grades,   colors,    and   description,   assembled  to 
barter  away  and  sell  their  immortal  souls." 

Now,  Mr.  Beecher,  read  over  the  above  quotations, 
while  quietly  sitting  in  your  closet,  and  how  do  they 
look  in  print  ?  Do  not  your  denunciations  strike  you 
as  being  rather  on  the  wholesale  order  ?  How  dif- 
ferent— how  widely  different — was  the  language  of 
your  master  and  mine,  while  tabernacling  upon  the 
earth !  Without  the  slightest  attempt  at  proof  to 
support  your  assertions,  you  throw  out  an  accusation 
against  the  whole  community  of  actors.  You  stand 
up  in  the  pulpit,  (late  the  social  exchange  of  sinners,) 
and  before  three  thousand  people,  drawn  together  by 
your  great  fame  as  a  speaker,  and  by  curiosity  to 
witness  the  cleansing  of  the  Augean  stable,  by  the 
river  of  your  eloquence,  and  point  at  a  large  class  of 
your  fellow  citizens,  branding  the  whole  of  them  as 
bad  characters  !  Without  particularizing  their  crimes 
— without  affording  them  an  opportunity  of  defence, 
you  consign  thousands  of  your  fellow  mortals  to 
infamy — or  in  other  words,  send  them  to  the  Devil! 
You  must  not  be  surprised,  then,  doctor,  if  the  com- 
munity you  have  so  unsparingly  denounced  and  slan- 
dered— yes,  slandered ! — do  not  sit  calmly  down 
under  the  imputations  cast  upon  them.  A  worm, 
when  trodden  upon,  will  turn  upon  a  giant. 

In  the  name  of  my  professional  brothers  and  sisters, 
I  deny  that,  as  a  class,  they  are  obnoxious  to  the 
charges  you  have  brought  against  them.  I  deny  that 
the  theatre  is  an  exchange  where  sinners  barter  away 
their  souls — and  I  am  willing  to  take  the  late  Tre- 
mont  Theatre,  with  all  its  faults,  as  a  specimen  of  all 
theatres  in  the  United  States — and  I  pronounce  your 


240  DEFENCE  OF  THE  STAGE. 

attempt  to  fix  upon  all  actors  and  actresses  the  title 
of  "bad  characters,"  uncharitable,  unfair,  and  un- 
manly. To  deny  that  the  institution  of  the  theatre 
is  sometimes  abused,  and  its  objects  perverted,  or 
that  some  members  of  our  profession  are  faulty,  would 
be  to  deny  that  managers,  actors,  and  actresses  are 
human  beings.  But  let  the  professors  of  the  stage  be 
compared  with  those  of  any  other  calling — nay,  let 
them  be  compared,  (and  I  invite  the  comparison,) 
with  the  occupants  of  the  pulpit — let  the  moral  cha- 
racter of  each  class  be  set  side  by  side  before  the. 
world,  and  the  result  need  not  be  feared  by  the  much 
abused  histrions. 

If  we  thought  proper  to  "  carry  the  war  into 
Africa,"  we  might  retort  upon  the  pulpit,  and  point 
out  instances,  (and  not  a  few,  either,)  where  all  the 
wholesome  restraints  of  society  have  been  broken 
through,  and  trampled  under  foot  by  preachers  of 
eminence — where  the  sanctity  of  the  domestic  circle 
has  been  invaded — the  obligations  of  the  marriage 
vow  have  been  broken — confidence  has  been  betrayed, 
and  fathers  and  husbands  have  been  compelled  to 
seek  redress  in  courts  of  justice  for  injuries  inflicted 
on  their  daughters  and  their  wives,  by  hypocrites 
who  use  religion  as  a  cloak  to  hide  their  hellish  pro- 
pensities. One  would  suppose,  doctor,  to  hear  you, 
and  such  as  you,  speak  of  actors  and  actresses,  that 
in  your  profession  tliere  is  no  acting — that,  from  the 
holy  horror  with  which  you  pour  forth  your  denun- 
ciations against  the  poor  players,  you  would  shrink 
from  employing  any  of  the  arts  you  condemn  so  un- 
sparingly in  the  actor.  I  assert  that  many  of  you 
make  a  trade  of  religion.     To  say  nothing  of  the 


LETTER    TO    DR.    BEECHER.  241 

attempt  that  was  made  to  raise  money  by  exhibiting 
the  Tremont  Theatre  as  ifc  stood  when  the  wicked 
actors  left  it — in  all  its  glare  of  splendid  scenery, 
rich  decoration,  and  gas  lights — you  every  week  cun- 
ningly contrive  out  ways  and  means  to  gull  the  public 
and  obtain  money  from  sinners  as  well  as  saints — 
that  at  your  meetings  you  resort  to  all  manner  of 
tricks  to  obtain  contributions  for  pretended  charities, 
and  for  the  support  of  missions  to  distant  countries, 
with  the  professed  object  of  saving  heathen  souls, 
while  your  next-door  neighbor  is  perishing  for  bread; 
that,  contrary  to  the  command  of  our  Saviour,  who 
directed  that  we  should  receive  the  gospel  "  without 
money  and  without  price,"  you  take  care  to  confine 
your  labors  to  such  congregations  as  will  pay  you  a 
price — and  a  very  good  price,  too — that  you  "  accept 
of  engagements,"  like  the  actors,  where  the  highest 
salaries  are  given — that  the  louder  the  call,  the  more 
likely  you  are  to  hear  it — and  that  instead  of  treating 
your  fellow  sinners  kindly,  and  drawing  them  by 
affectionate  remonstrances  from  what  you  consider 
their  evil  ways,  you  denounce  them  in  a  lot,  and,  so 
far  as  in  you  lies,  shut  the  door  of  grace  upon  them  ! 
It  would  appear  to  me,  reverend  sir,  that  on  the 
occasion  of  taking  formal  possession  of  the  Tremont 
Theatre — the  late  "seat  of  Satan  and  his  works," 
since  you  will  have  it  so — a  temperate  and  forbearing 
tone  would  have  been  more  becoming  your  character 
and  situation.  Considering  that  you  had  succeeded 
in  turning  old  Satan  and  about  one  hundred  sinners 
out  of  doors — the  sinners  to  starve,  perhaps,  and 
Satan  to  look  out  for  other  quarters — the  air  of 
triumph  you  assumed,  and  the  sentences  of  condemna- 


242  DEFENCE  OF  THE  STAGE. 

tion  you  uttered,  were  unworthy  of  you.  You  had 
hurled  the  Muses,  neck  and  heels,  from  the  premises — ■ 
you  had  deprived  their  humble  followers  of  the  means 
of  earning  their  bread — was  that  a  time  to  indulge  in 
scoffs  and  maledictions  ?  Was  that  the  way  to  purify 
the  unholy  spot  ? 

How  is  it,  that  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ— for  he  is 
my  Lord  as  well  as  yours — did  not  say  a  word  against 
theatres  when  on  earth  ?  I  do  not  find  a  sentence  of 
his  recorded  which  implies  that  there  is  any  sin  in 
social  amusements;  on  the  contrary,  the  Bible  is  full 
of  injunctions  to  cultivate  a  cheerful  disposition.  I 
need  only  to  refer  to  the  fact  of  David's  dancing 
before  the  Ark,  to  show  that  dancing  is  pleasing  in 
the  sight  of  God.  Speaking  of  David — read  his 
Psalms,  and  you  will  find  in  those  incomparable 
poems,  that  rejoicing  and  clapping  of  hands — playing 
upon  instruments,  of  all  the  kinds  then  invented — 
skipping,  and  making  "joyful  noises,"  formed  most 
of  the  themes  of  the  mighty  poet.  If  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, (I  have  not  my  Testament  with  me  to  refer  to) 
one  of  the  apostles  took  refuge  in  a  theatre,  which 
proved  to  him  a  safe  sanctuary  when  pursued  by  a 
ruthless  mob.  Our  Saviour  dwelt  among  sinners — 
gently  leading  them  into  the  paths  of  virtue.  How 
different  is  the  conduct  of  his  pretended  followers  of 
the  present  day — how  different  from  the  course  pur- 
sued by  the  apostles  in  the  early  ages  of  Christianity! 
Instead  of  "  going  forth  into  all  the  ends  of  the  earth 
to  preach  the  Gospel  to  all  nations,"  without  coin  or 
scrip,  your  modern  preachers  must  live  upon  the  fat 
of  the  land,  dwell  in  splendid  mansions,  be  in  receipt 
of  stipulated   salaries,  and   instead  of  spreading  the 


LETTER    TO    DR.    BEECHER.  243 

blessed  tidings  of  the  Gospel  to  the  inhabitants  of 
heathen  lands,  they  confine  their  teachings  to  their 
own  favored  flocks — unless  some  temple  of  Satan  is 
to  be  purified — then,  indeed,  a  reverend  divine  can 
travel  hundreds  of  miles — not,  as  in  pilgrim  times, 
bareheaded  and  barefooted — but  in  steamers,  railroad 
cars,  and  coaches,  to  fulfil  a  prophecy  made  by  him- 
self before  he  wa3  "called"  to  the  west!  Then, 
instead  of  extending  the  hand  of  charity  to  the  house- 
less individuals  who  have  thought  it  no  sin  to  "  labor 
in  their  vocation,"  and  if  he  thinks  their  calling 
sinful,  telling  them  to  "  go  and  sin  no  more,"  he 
can  brand  a  whole  community  with  infamy — pro- 
nounce them  ALL  "bad  characters" — andean  "dine 
after  that !" 

But  stop — what  am  I  about  ?  Let  me  not  fall  into 
the  same  error  I  am  condemning  in  others.  All 
preachers  are  not  to  be  answerable  for  the  faults  of  a 
portion  of  them.  I  have  known  some  orthodox 
preachers  (and  I  record  it  with  pleasure)  who  were 
honest,  charitable,  and  christianly.  I  only  wished  to 
show,  that  bad  as  actors  are,  or  may  be,  as  a  class, 
they  will  lose  nothing  by  a  comparison  with  preachers. 
In  all  the  practices  of  active  benevolence,  I  religiously 
believe  they  rank  far  above  them. 

I  would  suggest  to  }7ou,  my  fellow  sinner,  that  if 
you  really  believe  actors  and  actresses  to  be  the  "  bad 
characters  "  you  represented  them  to  be  in  your  ser- 
mon, it  is  your  bounden  duty  to  preach  to  them — point 
out  to  them  the  sinfulness  of  their  calling — reason 
with  them — draw  them  from  their  evil  ways,  if  they 
are  evil — and,  by  treating  them  kindly,  convince  them 


244  DEFENCE  OF  THE  STAGE. 


that  you  are  indeed  the  minister  of  that  blessed  Re- 
deemer you  profess  to  serve. 

If  you  and  your  congregations  would  attend  the- 
atrical exhibitions — (for,  depend  upon  it,  Doctor,  you 
cannot  "  put  them  down  ") — applaud  the  good  senti- 
ments, and  express  your  disapprobation  of  everything 
calculated  to  produce  an  immoral  effect  upon  the 
audience — in  short,  if  you  and  they  would  co-operate 
with  us,  and  endeavor  to  purge  the  stage  of  its  im- 
purities, instead  of  endeavoring  as  you  do  to  extermi- 
nate it,  much  good  might  be  effected,  and  the  drama 
might  flourish  as  the  adjunct  of  Christianity. 

I  did  intend  to  say  something  about  Satan — for  I 
do  think  you  treat  that  imaginary  being  rather  cava- 
lierly, taking  into  consideration  the  fact  that  he  is  al- 
ways at  hand  as  a  convenient  scare-crow  to  "  drive 
the  stray  lambs  into  the  fold,"  and  that  you  could  not 
carry  on  your  business  a  week  without  him, — but 
upon  second  thoughts,  I  have  concluded  to  say 
nothing  in  his  behalf.  Send  him  back  "  to  the  bot- 
tomless  pit,"  Doctor,  as  soon  as  you  like — and  a  good 
riddance,  I  say. 

At  some  future  period,  I  propose  to  discuss  at  some 
\ength  the  usefulness  of  the  stage.  At  present  I 
fear  I  have  wearied  your  patience,  with  my  desultory 
and  disjointed  strictures.  I  will  conclude  by  recom- 
mending to  your  consideration  the  7th  chapter  of 
Matthew,  1st  to  5th,  and  21st  to  23d  verses. 

Hoping  you  will  receive  this  letter  in  as  kind  a 
spirit  as  that  which  dictates  it,  and  advising  you  to 
cultivate  Christian  feelings,  I  remain, 

Dear  Sir,  your  fellow  laborer  in  the  vineyard, 

Sol.  Smith. 


KEPLY  TO  THE  KEV.  W.  G.  ELLIOT.  245 


A  REPLY  TO   THE   REV.  W.  G.  ELLIOT   OF 

ST.  LOUIS. 

Extract  from  a  Lecture  on  Amusements. 

BY  THE  BEV.   W.  G.  ELLIOT. 

"It  is  a  fair  objection  to  the  theatre,  that,  as  an  amusement,  it 
is  too  exciting — by  far  too  much  so  for  a  beneficial  influence  on  the 
young.  It  often  unfits  their  minds  for  serious  thoughts  and  labor. 
To  older  persons  it  may  not  be  so  hurtful ;  but  for  the  young  man, 
I  do  not  know  of  any  habit,  in  itself  not  positively  sinful,  which  is  more 
injurious,  or  more  fraught  with  serious  danger,  than  that  of  theatre- 
going.  It  stimulates  the  imagination  too  strongly;  it  awakens  dor- 
mant passions;  it  overtasks  the  sensibilities;  and  generally  makes 
more  quietand  less  exciting  amusements  seem  flat  and  tasteless.  It 
is,  moreover,  an  expensive  amusement,  much  beyond  the  proper 
means  of  most  young  men — and,  unfortunately,  it  is  surrounded  with 
many  incidental  evils,  which,  although  theoretically  not  inseparable 
from  it,  are  always  practically  attendant  upon  it — as  camp  followers 
are  an  evil  inseparable  from  the  camp.  1  appeal  to  yourselves  if  it 
is  not  true,  that  the  young  man  who  becomes  fond  of  the  theatre  is 
very  likely  to  become  immoral  and  dissipated.  Believing  that  it  is 
bo,  I  feel  justified  in  advising  you  strongly  against  it.  Select  more 
quiet  and  less  dangerous  amusements.  At  least  wait  until  you  are 
well  established  in  virtue,  before  you  subject  yourselves  to  such 
severe  tests ;  and  when  you  "are  thus  established,  the  desire  to  set 
a  good  example  to  those  whose  principles  are  not  yet  equally  con- 
firmed, may  become  a  still  stronger  motive  for  staying  away." 

At  various  times,  during  my  professional  life,  I 
have  felt  called  upon  to  make  comments,  through  the 
press,  upon  the  strictures  of  certain  reverend  gentle- 
men, who  have  thought  proper  to  denounce  the  insti- 
tution of  the  theatre  as  demoralizing  in  its  tendency. 
Among  the  so  called  "divines,"  (what  a  title  for  human 
beings  !)  to  whom  I  have  paid  my  respects,  I  may 
name   Mr.  Bulfard,   of   this  city,  and  Mr.  Beecher, 

21 


246  DEFENCE  OP  THE  STAGE. 


of  Cincinnati.  These  preachers  of  the  gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ — one  on  the  occasion  of  delivering  a 
sermon  on  the  death  of  President  Harrison,  and  the 
other  at  a  sort  of  holy  triumphant  celebration,  held 
on  the  occasion  of  the  conversion  of  the  Tremont 
Theatre,  (Boston,)  into  a  church — took  upon  them- 
selves the  offices  of  judges  of  their  fellow-sinners, 
and,  instead  of  obeying  the  command  of  the  master 
they  pretend  to  serve,  which  required  his  followers  to 
go  forth  to  all  the  world  and  preach  good  will  to 
all  MEN,  passed  sentence  of  unconditional  condemna- 
tion, not  only  upon  the  professors  of  the  stage,  but 
upon  all  who  encouraged  its  representations  by  their 
presence  in  the  passive  characters  of  auditors. 

It  may  be  asked  why  I,  out  of  the  whole  community 
of  actors  in  this  extensive  country,  should  take  upon 
myself  the  task  of  defending  the  theatre.  I  answer, 
because  I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty,  and  because  I  do  not 
perceive  others,  far  more  able  to  do  justice  to  the 
cause,  step  forward,  as  it  appears  to  me  they  should, 
to  defend  their  profession,  when  assailed. 

Being  a  great  admirer  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Elliot,  whom 
I  know  to  be  a  good  man  and  an  exemplary  Christian, 
I  confess  I  was  not  prepared  to  find  him  following  so 
far  in  the  wake  of  the  orthodox  gentlemen  above 
named,  as  to  advise  his  young  hearers  to  discounte- 
nance an  institution  which  has  been  advocated  and  up- 
held by  a  vast  majority  of  the  gi*eat  and  good  men 
of  all  ages,  and  in  all  countries  where  civilization  and 
refinement  have  prevailed  to  any  extent.  I  thought 
we  had  one  church  at  least,  in  St.  Louis,  whose  pulpit 
was  occupied  by  a  man  who,  while  he  was  strictly 
faithful  to  his  trust,  and  watchful  over  the  moral  con- 


REPLY  TO  THE  REV.  W.  G.  ELLIOT.  247 

duct  of  his  parishioriers,  would  rise  above  the  petty 
prejudices  which  unfortunately,  to  some  extent,  exist 
against  the  institution  referred  to ;  and  if  he  could 
not  conscientiously  assist  in  dissipating  those  preju- 
dices, that  he  would  al  least  refrain  from  giving 
countenance  to  the  war  of  extermination  waged  by 
interested  and  bigoted  clergyman  against  the  theatre, 
leaving  his  congregation  to  exercise  their  own  judg- 
ments, and  obey  the  dictates  of  their  own  consciences, 
(influenced,  if  you  please,  by  his  excellent  general 
teachings,)  on  the  subject  of  amusements. 

Before  attempting  to  controvert  the  opinions  of 
Mr.  Elliot,  as  expressed  above,  it  is  with  pleasure  I 
award  to  that  gentleman  great  sincerity  and  honesty 
of  purpose  in  all  his  acts  and  words.  His  language, 
correctly  quoted  at  the  head  of  this  article,  it  need 
not  be  said,  is  that  of  a  gentleman,  a  scholar,  and  a 
Christian  ;  and  its  style  is  referred  to  only  for  the  pur- 
pose of  remarking  upon  the  striking  difference  be- 
tween it  and  that  of  the  language  generally  made  use 
of  by  the  orthodox  "gentlemen  in  black"  gowns,  who 
have  heretofore  taken  upon  themselves  the  offices  of 
censors  of  the  stage,  and,  m  consequence,  claimed  my 
attention. 

I  will  now  state,  concisely,  Mr.  Elliot's  reasons  for 
advising  young  people  to  stay  away  from  the  theatre  : 

1.  The  theatre,  as  an  amusement,  is  too  exciting, 
and,  therefore,  fraught  with  serious  danger. 

2.  It  is  too  expensive. 

3.  It  is  surrounded  with  many  incidental  evils, 
which  are  always  practically  attendant  upon  it,  though 
not  theoretically  inseparable  from  it. 


248  DEFENCE  OF  THE  STAGE. 


4.  It  leads  young  men  to  become  immoral  and  dis- 
sipated. 

To  be  sure,  all  these  are  mere  assertions  ;  but  as 
they  are  made  in  sincerity,  and  doubtless  in  the  full 
belief  of  their  truth,  let  us  examine  them  separately : 

It  is  said,  that  the  theatre  is  "too  exciting." 
Now,  it  appears  to  me  that  if  the  tendency  of  stage 
representations  be  for  good,  they  cannot  be  "  too 
exciting  ;"  but  if  for  evil,  then  the  gentleman  is  right. 
When  the  heart  throbs  with  the  feelings  of  patriotism 
and  virtuous  indignation  against  tyranny  and  oppres- 
sion ;  when  the  eye  of  youth  fills  with  tears  of  sorrow 
for  suffering  virtue  ;  when  the  cheek  burns  with  indig- 
nation at  successful  villainy — all  the  effect  of  the  poet's 
language  and  the  actor's  power — will  it  be  said  that 
these  aroused  feelings  are  to  be  suppressed,  because  they 
are  "  exciting  ?"  I  say  to  you,  friend  Elliot,  that  so 
far  from  the  amusement  of  the  theatre  being  "  too 
exciting"  for  the  young,  it  would  be  better  for  the 
moral  condition  of  the  world,  if  the  excellent  senti- 
ments promulgated  from  the  stage,  could  be  more 
universally  disseminated  than  they  are.  That  the 
cold,  formal  teachings  of  the  pulpit  have  their  uses,  is 
not  denied  ;  but  the  practical  lessons  acted  before  the 
auditor  at  the  theatre,  from  the  very  fact  that  they 
are  more  "  exciting,"  are  more  lasting,  and  conse- 
quently more  useful. 

I  conclude,  then,  on  this  point,  that  a  play  cannot 
be  "too  exciting,"  if  the  moral  be  good,  and  the 
tendency  of  the  sentiment  ennobling  to  human  nature. 
Let  the  pulpit,  therefore,  confine  its  censures  and 
strictures    to    immoral    stage    representations,    and 


REPLY  TO  THE  REV.  G.  W.  ELLIOT.  249 

cherish  those  which  tend  to  refine,   ameliorate    and 
improve  society. 

The  second  objection  to  the  theatre  as  an  amusement 
— that  it  is  too  expensive — may  be  answered  in  a  few 
words.  Let  there  be  a  very  general  attendance, 
(allowing  it  to  be  deserving  of  support)  and  the  prices 
of  admission  can  be  proportionately  reduced.  This 
has  already  been  exemplified  in  our  own  theatre.  Not- 
withstanding the  anathemas  occasionally  launched 
forth  from  the  pulpit,  the  attendance  has  so  increased 
within  late  years  that  the  admission  fee  has  been 
reduced  one-half!  So  it  is  not  very  "expensive,'' 
after  all ;  and  if  young  men  are  moderate  in  their  en- 
joyment of  dramatic  amusements — visiting  the  theatre 
only  once  or  twice  a  week — it  will  not  be  very  "hurt- 
ful" to  them,  I  imagine,  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view, 
(in  which  view  I  suppose  this  objection  is  made,)  and 
they  will  have  something  left  for  pew  rent,  preacher's 
salary,  and  the  missionary  box  too.  Taking  into 
view  the  quality  of  the  various  amusements,  it  appears 
to  me  there  is  none  so  cheap  as  that  of  the  theatre. 

The  charge  that  the  theatre  is  "  surrounded  with 
incidental  evils,"  I  scarcely  know  how  to  meet,  unless 
the  evils  are  more  particularly  specified.  In  the 
absence  of  such  specifications,  I  hope  it  will  not  be 
thought  unfair  to  assume  that  the  lecturer  referred  to 
those  truly  objectionable  adjuncts  to  some  theatres — 
the  bar-room  and  the  third  tier.  If  I  am  right  in  this 
assumption,  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  here  in  St. 
Louis,  there  has  been  no  saloon  or  bar-room  carried 
on  in  the  theatre  for  ten  years ;  and  that  the  third 
tier  is  frequented  by  as  honest  and  virtuous  a  set  of 

21* 


250  DEFENCE  OF  THE  STAGE. 


auditors,  male  and  female,  as  can  be  found  in  any 
community — of  colored  people. 

And  here  I  must  complain  of  the  illiberality  and 
positive  unfairness  of  all  the  clergymen  in  this  city 
who  oppose  the  theatre,  as  they  say,  upon  principle  ; 
for  while  they  very  willingly  and  with  apparent  can- 
dor admit,  in  private,  that  the  establishment  here  is 
an  exception  to  the  generality  of  theatres,  and,  indeed, 
that  its  directors  deserve  credit  for  the  manner  in 
which  it  is  conducted,  in  the  pulpit  they  do  not  give 
us  the  benefit  of  this  exception,  but  class  all  theatres 
together  indiscriminately,  and  indiscriminately  con- 
demn them  all ! 

The  fourth  objection,  that  going  to  the  theatre  leads 
young  men  to  become  immoral  and  dissipated,  is  con- 
troverted thus : — They  learn  there  the  best  lessons 
taught  by  history  and  experience  ;  they  meet  the  best 
society  ;  they  pass  their  time  pleasantly — commit  no 
sin — and  retire  to  their  homes  satisfied  that  they  have 
spent  the  evening  in  rational  enjoyment.  "  Dissipa- 
tion" has  no  more  connection  with  the  theatre  than 
with  the  church.  If  a  man  is  desirous  of  indulging 
in  the  intoxicating  cup,  he  can  obtain  it,  (and  will,)  as 
easily  after  attending  a  lecture  or  prayer  meeting,  as 
after  witnessing  a  theatrical  performance. 

Instead  of  theatre-going  being  an  injury  to  the 
young,  (or  the  old  either,  for  that  matter,)  I  insist 
that  it  is  a  positive  benefit ;  and  I  hope  to  live  long 
enough  to  see  the  respectable  portion  of  our  pulpit 
orators  throw  aside  the  long  cherished  prejudices,  and 
come  out  in  its  support.  Come,  gentlemen  of  the  long 
robe,  what  do  you  say  to  a  "  combination"  between 
the  church  and  the  theatre,  against  the  devil  and  all 


REPLY  TO  THE  REV.  G.  W.   ELLIOT.  251 

Ais  works?  Instead  of  endeavoring  to  put  down  the 
theatre,  which  you  can  never  do,  suppose  you  preach 
against  the  abuses  which  exist  in  it — recommend  your 
hearers  to  witness  none  but  good  plays — moral  plays 
— plays  which  are  plays  !  Tell  the  young  men  to 
stay  away  when  the  trash  which  managers  are  some- 
times compelled  to  offer,  is  announced,  and  crowd  the 
house  when  a  sterling  piece  is  brought  out ! 

If  preachers  will  follow  my  advice,  and  let  it  he 
understood  that  they  uphold  the  good  and  condemn 
the  bad  of  the  theatre,  they  can  then  incorporate  into 
their  sermons  some  of  the  sentiments  of  our  fine  old 
dramatists,  and  instead  of  quoting  as  they  now  fre- 
quently do,  surreptitiously,  some  good  sentiments 
from  a  play,  and  shuffle  it  over  with  a  half-uttered 
reference  to  "the  poet,"  they  could  quote  boldly  from 
Shakspeare,  Johnson,  Home,  and  other  play  writers, 
and  give  them  due  credit  for  their  sentiments.  More 
than  a  thousand  times  have  I  heard  passages  from 
Shakspeare  quoted  in  the  pulpit,  and  never  but  once 
did  I  hear  that  poet's  name  mentioned  there ;  and 
then  the  minister  said,  he  valued  the  plays  of  Shaks- 
peare next  to  his  Bible !  The  minister  here  spoken 
of  gave  this  rule  as  the  proper  one  to  be  followed  by 
all  Christians,  in  relation  to  amusements  :  "  Never  to 
go  to  any  place  where  you  are  not  willing  to  die  !"  An 
excellent  rule,  I  humbly  think;  and  one  which,  if  fol- 
lowed by  us  all,  (preachers  as  well  as  players,)  might 
be  considered  a  safe  guide  through  life. 

For  twenty-five  years  I  have  followed  the  stage  as 
a  profession.  If  I  thought  it  a  sinful  one,  I  would 
leave    it    to-morrow — nay   to-night;     though   a  large 


252  DEFENCE  OF  THE  STAGE. 

family  is  dependent  on  my  professional  exertions  for 
support — my  children  for  their  education. 

If  my  own  motives  and  feelings  are  known  to  my- 
self, my  aim  has  always  been,  so  far  as  my  limited 
influence  extended,  to  elevate  the  drama ;  or  rather  to 
so  conduct  my  course  in  the  management  of  such 
theatres  as  have  been  wholly  or  partially  under  my 
direction,  as  to  maintain  the  stage  in  its  proper 
position  among  the  professions.  This  I  have  effected, 
so  far  as  the  public  would  sustain  me ;  and,  in  con- 
clusion, I  invite  all  who  believe  that  theatre-going  is 
attended  with  injurious  effects,  to  examine  well  the 
subject — discard  all  illiberal  prejudices,  exercise  a 
Christian  spirit  towards  those  who  differ  with  them  in 
opinion,  and  pause  before  they  publicly  utter  opinions, 
which,  if  concurred  in  by  the  community  in  which  we 
live,  would  consign  to  want  and  starvation  all  who  are 
engaged  in  the  theatre  ;  consisting  of  no  less  than 
sixty  or  seventy  individuals,  who,  for  virtue,  intelli- 
gence and  honesty,  (leaving  myself  out  of  the  party,) 
may  safely  challenge  a  comparison  with  those  who 
eeem  disposed  to  deprive  them  of  their  bread. 

[1848]  FOU  SMITH 


LETTER  FROM  EX-PRESIDENT  LAMAR. 


Galveston,  Texas,  lO^A  January,  1849. 
Dear  Sol., — 

If,  in  consequence  of  my  long  silence,  you  have 
been  induced,  as   I  fear  you  have,  to  drop  me  from 
your  "list  of  friends,"  I  hope  you  will  not  deny  me 
the  privilege,  under  fair  explanation,  of  reinstating 
myself  in  your  good  graces  !     Our  acquaintance  be- 
gan at  that  halcyon  period  of  life,  when  the  heart  is 
most  susceptible   of  strong  and  lasting  impressions ; 
and  I  can  assure  you,  my  old  friend,  that  the  attach- 
ment which  then  grew  up  between  us,  making  us  two 
as  one   man,  has  not  been   weakened   in  me  by  the 
flight  of  years ;  but  on  the  contrary  it  has  rather  been 
improved  by  time,  the  great  maturer,  which  converts 
the  flowers  of  spring  into  the  ripe  and  pleasant  fruits 
of  autumn.     My  life,  like  your  own,  has  been  some- 
what checkered  by  adventure ;  but  I  account  it  one 
of  the   greatest  blessings  of  fortune,  that  amidst  all 
her  bufferings,  she  has  not  deprived  me  of  the  cheer- 
ful companion  of  my  happier  days — the  "  friend  of 
my  soul"— my  old  Sol.  Smith.    A  three-years  entomb- 
ment of  myself  in  Mexico  and  the  frontier  wilds  has 
prevented   my  receiving  your  little   book,  which  you 
kindly  dedicated   to   me,  and  which   now  meets  my 
sight  for  the  first  time.     Its  laughing  tone  and  ani- 
mated stories,  show  that  you  have  not  lost  the  joyous 
spirit  of  your  younger  years — that  you  are   still   the 

(253) 


254  LETTER   FROM    EX-PRESIDENT   LAMAR. 

man  of  "infinite  jest,"  in  spite  of  all  your  ups  and 
downs;  and  surely,  my  friend,  if  the  ancients  were 
right  in  saying  that  a  brave  man  struggling  with  ad- 
versity, was  a  sight  worthy  of  the  gods,  I  know  of 
no  claimant  more  worthy  of  their  favors  than  yourself 
— than  you  who  have  contributed  so  much  to  lighten 
the  burthens  of  others,  while  bravely  bearing  your 
own.  You  have  "played  many  parts  "  in  your  time — 
have  played  them  all  well,  and  most  certainly  none 
better  than  that  of  the  true  "  philosopher  and 
friend."  Then  "here's  a  double  health  to  thee,"  old 
Sol.  Long  life  and  a  happy  one  to  him  who  knows 
how  to  enjoy  prosperity  with  gratitude,  and  whose 
happy  alchemy  of  mind  can  turn  even  misfortune  into 
pleasantry.  "All  the  world's  a  stage;"  but  the 
"farce,  tragedy  and  comedy"  of  life  will  soon  be 
over.  Let  us  then,  my  friend,  endeavor  so  to  act  the 
parts  assigned  us  here,  as  may  secure  to  us  a  good 
cast  and  full  benefits  in  that  sublimer  theatre  which 
will  be  opened  hereafter  by  the  great  Manager  above, 
when  the  universe  shall  be  the  audience  and  eternity 
the  curtain. 

Your  Friend, 

MIRABEAU  B.  LAMAR. 

Sol.  Smith,  Esq., 

Manager  of  the  St.  Charles  Theatre,  N.  0. 


THE   END. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


%i 


%)jiivj^      ^ojm 


aofcaiifo% 


y0AHVaHllVi 


^OFCAII 


3   1158  01 


273  4801 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  411  291 


>- 


\« 


L 


% 


(A> 


^EU' 


bur 


